


c plus

by viiisenya



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Everyone is probably ooc, F/M, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Light Angst, Teen Romance, and it is shikamaru centric, here's a cliche college AU no one asked for lol, im realizing now this is becoming a bit like a shikamaru exploration story lol, shikamaru is a dumb genius, there's a lot of alcohol and smoking references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-02-28 05:00:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 68,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13264215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viiisenya/pseuds/viiisenya
Summary: Temari met his eyes as soon as she bit down onto her fork.Greatnessechoed Asuma’s voice, sending a chill down his spine. She grinned at him, something candid and believing, leaning forward slightly. “And, just so you know,” her voice was hushed as if she was telling him a secret, “a C+ GPA doesn’t condemn you to a C+ life.”-OR: Shikamaru is one of six friends without a girlfriend, but he's quite content with that outcome (or so he thinks). As far as he's concerned, college life is drinking and smoking and averaging a C+ GPA with minimal effort. It isn't until a professor asks him to tutor for the class he's in that Shikamaru finds himself in a bit of girl trouble, on top of trying to figure out his own life and the ghosts that haunt him.





	1. tequila

**Author's Note:**

> this is an incredibly selfish fanfic i am writing. almost ten years ago i spent my time online writing numerous Naruto fanfics and i never thought the day would come that i'd write another. i watched quite a bit of Naruto during my break and felt incredibly nostalgic for these characters i loved so long ago. i shipped Shikamaru and Temari way before there was even any hint of them being canon and knowing that they became canon made me _so_ happy. i had to revisit their relationship. i tried to make sure everyone was in character to the best of my capabilities, so i'm sorry if they aren't. 
> 
> a lot of the experiences depicted in this (pretty shittily written) fic are my own college experiences because i do think i've had a bunch of crazy ones. it's also written in the present day context, so i do refer to a lot of music i listen to and a few memes lol. anyways, if you feel so compelled to embark on this journey with me, i welcome you. as i've said, i'm really writing this for myself because i love Shikamaru and Temari and wanted to make my own college AU come to life, but if you enjoy it too, well, that'll be a pleasant surprise for me :)
> 
> enjoy-

“You want me to do what.” It was more of a statement than it was a question, as intended, which caused Professor Hatake to frown. Shikamaru noticed and tried again, with a little more feeling. “You want me to do _what_?”

“Tutor. I want you to tutor for this class,” Professor Hatake said. “You’re doing exceptionally well and I think a few students, especially from the other sections, would benefit from outside help.”

That was news to Shikamaru, who rarely checked his grades, though he was pleasantly surprised. The material was not hard and the learning came easy to him, but he didn’t put in as much effort as he ought to. He was thinking he was averaging a C+ for the midterm, but ‘exceptionally well’ sounded a little bit better than anticipated.

“Why would I do that?” Shikamaru asked, hoping that he wasn’t going to be forced to tutor anyone. He was already thinking up excuses in case Professor Hatake _insisted_ that he took up the tutoring that were lies only in the slightest—he was too busy this semester; he had to babysit Mirai in his free time (“and you know how Mrs. Sarutobi gets when no one’s around to take care of her, don’t you, Professor Hatake?”); his roommate Chouji broke his foot and had to be monitored 24/7, doctor’s orders.

“It pays.” The words snapped him out of his excuses and the thought of being a tutor was suddenly very enticing. Keen as ever, Professor Hatake caught sight at his newfound interest and smiled. “$10.50 an hour.”

Shikamaru never really cared much about money but since he got to college, everything revolved around it. Textbooks, feeding himself, cigarettes and booze. It was the stupid bets Naruto roped him into and the new headlights he had to buy. It was almost as if his wallet growled in his back pocket the same way his stomach did when he woke up every Sunday afternoon, hungover and starving. It was a very serendipitous opportunity that dropped into his life, he thought, unless…

“My mom didn’t ask you to ask me to do this, did she?” Shikamaru asked. He could hear his mother’s nagging voice in the back of his head, scolding him for recklessly spending his money even though he was such a smart boy. He shuddered at the thought of being forced to show his bank statements to his mother.

Professor Hatake’s face scrunched up in surprise and he slowly shook his head. “I just recognized your pronounced understanding of course material and thought this would be a nice way for you to make some money on the side.”

Shikamaru let out a breath of relief, and then smiled at his professor’s kind words. He was always an easy guy to talk to, especially since the death of his last advisor. It was nice to know that there was a real adult still looking out for him. “Yeah. Yeah, sure, I’ll tutor. How often? 

“Whenever you’re free. It’s by appointment, so the tutee will have to figure out their own time that’ll work with the ones you’ve listed. The library does a better job of explaining.”

Shikamaru nodded, making a mental note to visit the library after he grabbed something to eat. He secretly (and a little selfishly) hoped that he’d be booked with tutees so he could have the money to afford drinking something that wasn’t Everclear vodka and Sprite that Naruto stole from a too-drunk frat boy’s apartment. He was giddy at the thought of his nonexistent, newfound riches and resolved to treating himself to a _large_ coffee instead of just a medium.

“Thanks, Professor. I appreciate it,” Shikamaru said, referring more to everything he had done for him in the past than to the current opportunity he provided.

Professor Hatake smiled with an understanding look in his eye. “No problem, Shikamaru. I’ll see you on Monday.”

* * *

“As if you couldn’t get any _more_ pretentious,” Naruto hooted, pouring another round of shots for the boys as Shikamaru told them of his new profession. The process of becoming a tutor was easier than he thought, and signing the direct deposit slips had him grinning from ear to ear by the time he got back to his room to take a nap.

“I didn’t even know you knew a word that big,” Shikamaru retorted, causing a raucous laughter to erupt in the tiny dorm room. Everyone was red-faced and smiley, as expected after a few shots of the rubbing alcohol they’ve been drinking. Shikamaru swore up and down every Sunday morning that he woils  _never_ drink again, but it’s a broken promise he often mourns over whole wheat toast and scrambled eggs.

“Man, shut the fuck up and just take the shot,” Naruto muttered, throwing back his own tiny glass of fire water followed by a long pull of orange juice. Everyone followed suit, each of them groaning as they reached for their respective chasers. The taste wasn’t as bad three shots in, he thought, but he was still drinking half a bottle of Sprite to wash away the bite. His belly was warming up and if he moved slightly, he could hear the liquids sloshing in there, as gross as the thought was.

He surveyed the room for a lighter while also making a headcount; Naruto and Sasuke, the humble hosts of the shitty room, his own roommate Chouji, Neji and—

“Wait a second, where’s Lee?” Shikamaru asked, aware now of the missing presence.

“The gym,” Neji responded, leaning back into the beat up futon. “’The grind never stops,’ remember?”

They all laughed. He reached over to the desk cluttered with papers and notebooks, undoubtedly Naruto’s, snatching the lighter. He already has the cigarette in his mouth as he nodded in Naruto and Sasuke’s direction. “You mind?” 

“Oh, wait, let me just—“ Naruto stood up on the wobbly arm of the futon and secured a plastic bag over the smoke detector with a piece of tape while Sasuke threw the window open. A gust of wind snuck in and sent a shiver throughout the room, but it was much needed. The room was beginning to get stuffy as the boys got a little tipsier and it didn’t help that the dial on their heater was broken, cursing the inhabitants to a toasty fate of 78 degrees at all times.

The smoke from his cigarette swirled in the room, the smell mixing with the musky scent of body odor and stale liquor. It had become a comforting smell to Shikamaru, even though all of those scents were disgusting by themselves and as a group. The room with the obnoxious lights and the special group he had bonded with have all become a constant for him, making college feel a little more like home. The idea of going to college was always one Shikamaru met apprehensively, but in that moment just like several others tucked away in his memory, he was glad he did if only for the comfort of good friends and bad liquor.

Naruto made a noise as he held a bottle cap between his teeth, hands fumbling across his legs and then over the lumpy futon. His cellphone seemed tiny in his hands and even tinier as he held it out in front of his face, mumbling the text to himself under his breath. The music was quiet but Shikamaru could feel the bass in his back. His eyes were fixed on the red solo cup next to the speaker that quivered each time there was a slight change in tempo of the song. The pulsating lights made the room spin and Shikamaru suspected that when he stood up, he’d be a little more intoxicated than he thought.

“Hinata says they’re almost ready,” Naruto announced, bottle cap still wedged between his toothy grin as he constructed a reply to his girlfriend. “We should head down to Sakura’s now.”

The five of them all agreed, shuffling awkwardly in the cramped room toward the door. Naruto was the last one, kicking empties underneath his desk and some more into the closet. As if he remembered something, Naruto retreated back into the room one last time before exiting and locking the door. Shikamaru shifted slightly and noticed a pink sweater.

“Sakura kept asking you for this back, don’t forget it this time,” Naruto scolded, shoving the sweater into Sasuke’s arms who only rolled his eyes.

Shikamaru couldn’t suppress his smile; as the only one out of the six without a girlfriend, he couldn’t relate to their girlfriend-related woes. It also meant, though, that he couldn’t relate to the comforts of someone doting on him and sharing happiness with another person. Having a girlfriend was not on the forefront of his priorities, but it didn’t mean that he hadn’t tried in the past. He had his crushes and girls he admired from afar, and the ones he managed to talk to were fun in the moment. But, there was always something missing.

He ended up being the odd man out when all his friends started dating each other, starting with Naruto and Hinata (the latter being in love with the former since grade school, as Shikamaru could recall). And then it was Sasuke and Sakura, the interesting pair that his big brain still couldn’t get a good enough grasp on but he stopped questioning it years ago. Neji and Tenten came out as a couple after being prodded by Lee incessantly; then it was Lee’s turn to announce he was seeing someone. No one believed him until Neji confirmed the fictitious girl’s existence with a group picture of a double date they went on. It was down to himself and Chouji, who vowed to get married if they were both single by the time they were 35, but that marriage pact fell through when Chouji met Karui on a fated trip to the grocery store. Even Ino, his other childhood friend who Shikamaru considered a sister, was in a committed relationship. The good in that was it silenced the rumors that _they_ would start dating.

Shikamaru was happy for all of his friends for finding such wholesome and collegiate love, he truly was. But, he couldn’t deny that it was bothersome sometimes being the only one without a date to couples’ only ventures. If he was destined to be alone for the rest of their college careers, so be it. There was no point in being bitter over something he couldn’t control; the girls he talked to were amazing people but something was _always_ amiss resulting in just sharing kisses between sheets and short lived affairs, never anything more. Neji once said that Shikamaru’s girlfriend was the feisty lass named Svedka, and he was starting to believe it.

The walk to Sakura’s room was an uneventful one, befitting a journey down the hall and then down two flights of stairs. The all-girls hall smelled pretty in comparison to the boys’ and it was much cleaner. Shikamaru often felt like he needed to shower after visiting their  floor, then especially. The five of them stopped in front of the door decorated with pressed flowers, aptly done by both Sakura and Ino. Their names were carved out of cardstock in curly calligraphy and pasted to the wooden door above a mini dry erase board that had _Welcome to the Babe Cave_ scrawled on it.

Sasuke, adorned with the pink sweater on his shoulder, moved to knock on the door but was interrupted by the sound of a different door opening down the hall. The sound of heels clicking against the ground were hypnotic in his pregame stupor, alluring him into seeing who was approaching them when he would have otherwise ignored the sound. Hinata and Tenten closed the distance between them as Naruto whistled.

“Hina, you look amazing!” Naruto exclaimed, rushing to sweep his already flustered girlfriend off her feet.

Tenten slipped in beside Neji, quietly asking if Lee was still at the gym to which he confirmed and wrapped an arm around her waist in a half hug. The noise in the hall had the door in front of them thrown open to reveal Sakura and Ino. Sakura had her mouth open as if to loudly announce their presence but was caught off guard by Sasuke; Shikamaru saw her eyes move from his face to her pink sweater that sat on his shoulder.

“You remembered this time!” She said, clutching the pink sweater in a fist and threw her arms around Sasuke’s neck. He had slowly snaked one arm around her waist and gave her a squeeze.

“Naruto reminded me to bring it,” he confessed but Sakura didn’t hear him, obviously too pleased with the return of her sweater.

“Where’s Sai?” Shikamaru asked as Ino punched him softly in the arm as way of greeting.

“He’s gonna meet us there,” she responded, adjusting her infamous ponytail. Shikamaru could always spot Ino from across the quad by her ponytail swishing in the wind alone.

“It’s still five-dollar cover, yeah?” She asked him. He shrugged, hands stuffed in his pockets. He wondered if he even had five dollars in cash to give at the door.

“Dunno. Naruto knows the guy; you should ask him.” Ino nodded and motioned to gather everyone.

“All right, let’s go!”

The walk across campus wasn’t a long one, but as autumn settled in, the winds were a little less than forgiving. Shikamaru looked over at the girls who strutted effortlessly through the breeze, shivering just at the look of the skin they exposed. He applauded them for braving the cold, something he was unable to do even with jeans and a sweatshirt. It was a reminder that the women were always stronger, he thought, and a little scary.

It was obvious which apartment was hosting the party; Shikamaru had spied the flashing lights from a few feet away and as they approached, the loud music seeped out from the closed door. Like a makeshift club, one of their peers stood as bouncer at the door but instead of checking IDs, he held his hand out for the five-dollar cover charge. It turned out that he did have a crumpled bill in his pocket, and he had hoped that since he was five dollars poorer, the party and jungle juice would have to be well worth it.

The bouncer, who Shikamaru then recognized as the kid that sat behind him in Regression Analysis, had pulled the door open and the amount of smoke that billowed toward them was reminiscent of entering a snowstorm. There had been enough weed smoke that Shikamaru feared he would get crossed just by breathing in, but he followed his friends nonetheless.

The apartment had been gutted with all the furniture pushed off to the side save a coffee table that housed the five-gallon dispenser filled with all sorts of poison beside a stack of cups. Shikamaru estimated that there were at least fifty people within the apartment, including himself and his friends. Most of the people were unfamiliar to him, if he could even make out their faces in the brief seconds the strobe lights fell on them. The owners of the apartment weren’t anybody that Shikamaru knew; he was almost sure that Naruto didn’t know them personally either, only by association. It was not a complaint though. His blond friend had always got them into crazy parties through his reputation alone.

There were clusters of people scattered throughout the apartment, groups of fours and fives talking amongst themselves over the loud trap music. Some were sitting on the couch that had been pushed off to the side, watching the silent basketball game on the TV that was the only source of constant white light in the darkened apartment.

When he turned to make an offhand comment to his group of friends, he saw that they had all dispersed leaving him alone with his best friend. Chouji grinned at him as if they were sharing the same thought and Shikamaru couldn’t help but smile back.

The two of them made a beeline to the jungle juice, pouring a generous amount. Shikamaru took a big sip, already taking note of how much of it was just alcohol and not juice. There was a familiar yet unnamable taste mixed in with the alcohol, but it was of little concern then. He topped himself off, watching Chouji do the same, and then moved aside to an unoccupied corner of the room. The way the lights moved made Shikamaru felt much drunker than he actually was, his lungs itching for a cigarette.

“Karui didn’t want to come?” Shikamaru asked Chouji. He shook his head and offered Shikamaru a bowl of chips he had spied from the kitchen.

“She has work tomorrow morning at eight,” Chouji responded. The two of them took turns shoving chips into their mouth, Shikamaru noticing then that they were tortilla and stale.

“Yeesh,” he said between bites. “Sounds like a royal pain in the ass.”

Chouji made a noise of agreement as he threw back some more of the juice. Shikamaru turned away slightly to continue people watching. It was what he spent most of his time at parties doing, if he wasn’t playing Naruto and Sasuke in pong with Chouji. In all honesty, the parties were mediocre at best and he didn’t enjoy going to them as much as he should have. He did it mostly for the pregames and sitting around with his friends who were always thrilled about going out. Getting drunk was fun and it was mostly to help put his ass to sleep, but he supposed it was more fun if there was somebody to go back to your room with.

He scratched the hairs at the nape of his neck, trying to banish the bitter thoughts of being single. He said he didn’t care and he _didn’t_. It wasn’t a problem to be single, he knew that, but at a certain point he wondered if it was him. All those girls he talked to were extraordinary so maybe it was him that sabotaged any chance of a relationship. Maybe he just wasn’t ready for one (which made no sense because Naruto had the sensibility of a puppy and as far as he knew, Sasuke didn’t even have feelings).

He looked down at the drink swirling in his cup, oddly fluorescent in the black lights. Drinking more might have sunk him deeper into his feelings _but_ there was the possibility that he could just get stupid, happy drunk. He could see the scale tipping in the reflection of the feelings juice; if he blacked out tonight, he could just forget about being single and sleep blissfully unaware of the impending hangover that would meet him in the morning. Did thinking that much also include the weird feeling in his belly? He couldn’t remember; his memory was not as sharp as it had been since his many drunken nights.

His thoughts were interrupted when Chouji came and slapped him on the back, the drink sloshing over the edge and onto his hand. “Dude!”

“What?” Shikamaru said, exasperated and shaking the sticky liquid off his fingers. Chouji’s hand was still splayed across his back when he shifted him to the left to face a group of girls. Squinting in the light, Shikamaru recalled them as a few lowerclassmen he’d seen in passing on his way to class. “I do not understand what you’re trying to show me.”

Chouji gasped. He assumed whatever he wanted to show him was not there anymore until Chouji tapped his back two times. “Four o’ clock. Right there, the blonde. She’s been eyeing you since we got here, man!”

Shikmaru turned his head to look in the direction Chouji described, briefly seeing a mass of blonde hair walk behind a group of people in the kitchen. When she reappeared, he couldn’t help but notice the mini skirt that was attached to the long legs wrapped up in fishnets. From that distance, it was undeniable that she had bright eyes that captured anything they landed on. She had been looking off to the side, almost as if she was bored with her arms crossed and a cup in her hand.

“Blonde and leggy,” Shikamaru admired. “Just my type. When did you get this perceptive, my dear friend?”

Chouji laughed, knowing that between the two of them, it had always been Shikamaru who noticed everything. He wondered how she managed to slip past him after his first sweep of the party.

“The stale ass chips gave me a new power. But, seriously, she has been looking in our direction and I think you should go talk to her!” Chouji said, turning away from the blonde’s line of sight in order to be sneaky.

“It’s loud as fuck in here, why are you standing in front of me.” Shikamaru moved to look past Chouji. “You think she can hear you?”

“What if she can read lips?”

“’What if she can read lips?’” Shikamaru sputtered back mockingly. “I’m the one who’s gonna talk to her. Why are you freaking out?”

Chouji’s face had softened as the question hung in the air, or at least that was as much as Shikamaru could register. “I’m just trying to play matchmaker here. I want you to be happy, man."

The words had hit Shikamaru right in the gut and he realized that maybe he was wearing his feelings on his face again. Chouji was the only one he confided in being slightly distraught over his singleness albeit drunk and never spoken of sober. He never really considered that Chouji would remember those incapacitated depressing talks of death and loneliness and lifelong promises made to ghosts. He was in his fucking feelings again.

“What if she’s the one?” Shikamaru wasn’t aware that Chouji had continued speaking but the phrase forced a laugh from his mouth. It seemed that his best friend was in his feelings too, all talks of true love.

“I haven’t even talked to her. The only ‘one’ she’s gonna be is probably another _one_ -night stand.”

Chouji clicked his tongue and gave him a shove. “Just go talk to her.”

He raised his arms in defense and took a step forward. “Okay, I will.”

There was that feeling in the bottom of his belly again, rising up through his body and towards his head.

The room was suddenly spinning and nothing was in focus but that leggy blonde a mere ten feet away from him. His shoes must’ve been filled with lead because each step had been like walking through quicksand. The music and overlapping voices were nothing but buzzing in his ears as he closed the distance between himself and the mysterious girl who had eyes like emeralds now that he could see them. 

Somebody shouted, her name he guessed, by the way she had turned her head away from his general direction to look over her shoulder. 

“Te—“ 

— _quila._

He pushed past the girls in front of the bathroom door and shouldered his way in. Shikamaru fell to his knees as if he were confessing his sins to the almighty, head straight into the bowl. Tequila, he thought desperately. There was goddamned tequila in the punch.

The last thing he saw before everything went black were chunks of tortilla chips helplessly floating in a sea of red.  


	2. mean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tequila does the body no good, Shikamaru thinks as he does a little bit of reflecting on the past. He finally meets the leggy blonde, and it's a reminder that he hates surprises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone who gave the first chapter a read, left a kudos, commented, bookmarked, and subscribed! I hope you’re enjoying it so far. there won't be long notes at the beginning of each chapter; i'm just doing so for these first few to iron out any confusion that might occur! 
> 
> \--i plan on updating at least once a week. i am a full time student, but i'm still gonna try and crank one out consistently since i plan on finishing this fic (unlike all the other unfinished ones left on the shelves)  
> \--i purposely have not and will not specify what year everyone is nor what the class Shikamaru is tutoring for. this is partially because i haven't decided what the year difference should be (even though it's slightly obvious) but also because i like leaving some things open to the imagination. i can say for sure that Temari is older than the group, just like she is in the canon  
> \--i know i said that this was going to be a ShikaTema fic, but as i continued writing, it sort of morphed into an exploration of Shikamaru's feelings and angst. I'm trying to stay true to his character but also keeping it realistic in that he _is_ a college student trying to navigate life  
>  \--with that being said, i've started sprinkling in some "mystery details" into chunks of the text that refer to some of Shikamaru's troubles. i hope they don't seem too random because i promise it'll all make sense in time! 
> 
> anyways, enough of my rambling lol 
> 
> enjoy-

He dreamt that he had wandered from the bathroom of the unknown owners’ apartment back to the living room, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. In a daze and patchy recollection of where he was, dream-Shikamaru moved languidly to the door despite the shouts from his friends. In his dream, the cold air was jagged against his hot, flushed face and he _really_ wanted a cigarette. He fumbled his way to the sidewalk and the dream ended there.

At six thirty the next morning, he found himself throwing up again into the double-bagged trash bin strategically placed next to the head of his bed. Between the heaves, he thanked his sober self for being smart enough to double bag the can. He didn’t do it as often as he used to anymore; most of the time, the can was lined twice out of habit rather than precaution but maybe yesterday-Shikamaru had the precognition that he would be ingesting _tequila_.

“I physically cannot drink tequila.” He often told his friends when they would suggest going to get two-dollar margaritas. They made a joke out of it by shoving stolen, half consumed bottles of Patron into his face. The smell alone was enough to force his belly to do flops. It hadn’t always been that way though. There was a time the smell and taste were not so bad, until he ruined it. He was a little younger and less wise when he pushed his body to the unhealthy limit of taking six shots of tequila within a single hour. Six was just a rough estimate, he found out later after Chouji and Ino dragged him back to his room. It must have been closer to at least seven or eight, but he couldn’t remember. They dubbed that fatal period of time “Six Shot Tequila Night,” a gruesome evening that Shikamaru could not remember save the amount of puke he hauled out of his room between five thirty and nine in the morning.

He felt like ass, for lack of a better way to describe his current state. He still had the spins associated with a night of heavy drinking, so he moved sluggishly with the pace of a corpse rolling over in its grave. He was probably still drunk, he concluded by the way everything in his room was shifting. Each move was calculated and executed with a predetermined amount of energy until he was finally sitting up. The sun was barely over the horizon and just peeking through the closed blinds of the room he shared with Chouji. His best friend’s soft snores were the only indication that he wasn’t alone in the room, and Shikamaru wondered how his horrendous yakking didn’t wake Chouji up.

It was a lot colder in the room than it should’ve been, prompting him to grab his blanket and wrap it around his shoulders like a cape. His mouth had the sharp and cruel taste of stomach acid, a familiar one that he knew would take hours of repeated water swishing to get rid of. Looking around his room, he saw that his water bottle was filled. This brought a smile to his face; Chouji must’ve filled it up. Or, drunk and ill Shikamaru must’ve. Either way, he was grateful for the warm water that flushed some of the stomach acid flavor out of his mouth.

His stomach was empty and he was hungry but it was too early for any sort of food. He still felt uneasy, fearing that if he ate or drank anything that wasn’t water, it would end up back in his lap. He decided a cigarette, a little morning air, and a few more hours of sleep would do until it was an acceptable time for lunch.

Shuffling towards the door, blanket still draped over his shoulders, Shikamaru made haste as best he could to the stairwell that took him behind the building. The morning air was crisp and probably not good for him given that he was already cold, but he welcomed it like an old friend. He was met with another stairwell made of concrete beneath an overhang created by the building, and with every footfall, small pebbles pegged the bottom of his feet through his socks. He reached up overhead where the stairwell merged with the concrete support beams, his fingers searching for a small crevice that he stashed a pack of cigarettes away in. The crumpled pack materialized in front of him, and thankfully, there was one left. He put the bent cigarette in between his lips and reached for the BIC lighter he hid as well.

Shikamaru was not much of a smoker of anything before he came to college, but as he learned, things changed and there was always a sudden need to replace emptiness the only way he knew how to: with bad habits. He thought of the engraved zippo in the front pocket of his coat, the diminished lighter fluid and scratched exterior. His mother scolded him for taking up smoking as a habit, reprimanding him for shortening the life she gave him. But, he knew it was out of concern and not of annoyance unlike her usual berating.

He realized his friends were real ones when they started storing lighters in their rooms, despite the fact that none of them smoked habitually and only on occasion. They knew what the zippo meant, the weight of it on his chest, and it was one of the few things they took seriously. For that, he was grateful.

Shikamaru crushed the cigarette against the wall in front of him and exhaled the drag he was holding in his mouth. He stuffed the butt back into the crevice and turned to face the door, buzzing himself in.

* * *

At eleven thirty, the shifts and groans of the bunk bed woke him up alongside the melody of vibrations from his phone underneath his pillow. The sunlight was harshly bright as it filtered through the thin sheets they used as curtains and the birds chirping sounded like gunshots. Chouji had climbed down from his bunk and began throwing clothes around, mumbling to himself about doing laundry.

“Chou?” Shikamaru managed weakly, remembering only brief snippets of his cigarette escapade. A time when he was still drunk and not yet hungover. The silver lining, he considered, was that he was only hungry now and not unsettled in the belly anymore.

Chouji turned around as he pulled a shirt over his head. “Glad to see you’re alive, bud.”

He laughed monotonously and sat up, hand to his brow bone. His phone was in his other hand and he lowered the brightness so that his eyes wouldn’t dry up and fall out of his head. He had five unread text messages and four times as many from the muted Snapchat group.

 **Ino (11:45pm)  
** Is the punch any good lmao  
  
**Naruto (12:37am)  
** R u dead bro  
  
**Ino (12:59am)**  
Shika if you’re sober please pick me and Sai up to go to T bell lol

 **Chouji (1:01am)**  
Hey pls respond u ran out of the apartment n I can’t find u

 **Naruto (3:07am)  
** Fr r u dead bro  
**…  
Me (11:36am)  
** Alive but barely breathing  
**…  
Naruto (11:37am)  
** that’s my guy  
... **  
Me (11:38am)  
** Lunch?  
**…  
****Naruto (11:38am)**  
u fuckin know it

Shikamaru tossed his phone to the side and stood up slowly, peeling off the clothes he wore last night to replace them with slightly less dirty clothes. He passed Chouji in the hall on his way to brush his teeth. He splashed warm water onto his face, trying to piece the night before back together. He was anticipating his friends asking him for the full recap of his night, as they always did in turns over lunch. He was not expecting to have missed much after his stomach turned itself inside out.

Naruto, Hinata, Neji, Lee, and Tenten were at the bottom of the steps when Chouji and Shikamaru met them. He could remember that Ino complained to him about work at ten today, but the missing Sakura and Sasuke he could not account for.

“Sakura and Sasuke were still asleep when I knocked on Sakura’s door,” Naruto said, reading his mind.

“Definitely fucking.” Tenten commented.

Naruto shook his head. “No, the door was unlocked. I even looked. Pretty sure they did earlier in the morning though.”

They all groaned at Naruto’s lack of boundaries but he laughed it off like he always did. Shikamaru thought that if he didn’t get anything to eat within the next ten minutes, he would be able to see his soul physically exit his body. He started walking towards the door and everybody followed. 

College food was absolute garbage, something that Shikamaru learned very quickly early in his academic career. He missed his mother’s cooking so much that a call from home beckoning him for dinner was enough to put him to tears. Saturdays were near intolerable in the cafeteria, but, Shikamaru knew that they were a day closer to Sunday brunch. Eggs and toast were of the most basic foods, he knew this, but they were the best things he could eat after a weekend of wrecking his liver and lungs.

There was nothing to eat, not that he expected anything extravagant to begin with, so he settled for a bagel and three glasses of water for his weak stomach. They claimed a circular table big enough to fit all of them and the buffet Lee decided to display (“It’s necessary to replenish my caloric intake!”). Upon taking their seats, Shikamaru could feel all of them staring him down.

“Yamato said he was glad you made it into the toilet,” Naruto began with a mouthful of food. “But I am truly surprised you even threw up. You can usually hold ya liquor a little bit better than that.”

He rolled his eyes. “There was tequila.”

“No shit?” Naruto asked, disbelieving.

“Honestly, tequila is the devil’s blood,” Tenten said. “I can’t drink that shit either.”

“After watching Shikamaru during Six Shot Tequila Night, I will never drink tequila.” Lee vowed. The statement caused Neji to laugh and shoot Lee a pointed look with a raised eyebrow.

“Lee, you don’t drink anything but Summer Shandy’s,” he deadpanned. Tenten and Naruto snickered.

“I know,” Lee conceded. “But, I’m just saying. I still wouldn’t.”

“Wise decision,” Shikamaru drawled. “Heed my warning: tequila in excess _will_ kill you.”

They all laughed, taking turns then recounting their own nights. Naruto managed to Ice Tenten with an unattended bottle on the counter, something that Shikamaru saw on his story. Sasuke almost got into a fist fight with somebody at the party because they had badmouthed his family name, unaware that the sole surviving Uchiha was present. It was also another thing that Shikamaru saw on Snapchat, with Ino yelling “Worldstar!” in the background as Naruto and Sakura held the third of their trifecta back. From as much as Shikamaru could gather as everyone else continued to piece the events back together, it was a typical Friday night.  

* * *

He had lucked out by having one class on Mondays, being able to spend most of his week doing nothing. It did mean that his other three classes were on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but Shikamaru had little fear in his heart after skimming the course material during the first week. His family always praised him for picking up on things quicker than most kids, praising him as a genius. He often argued with his mother that if he was such a genius, there shouldn’t be a need to go to college, but here he was anyways.

Professor Hatake’s voice droned on in the background as he twirled his pencil between his fingers. He had propped his head up with his other hand, eyes staring out the window while he watched a few clouds move across the sky. He figured he could afford to stop listening in class now that he was doing exceptionally well.

Earlier in the morning, he had three emails informing him that there were people in need of his services. Shikamaru hailed it as excellent news, thinking of what he could now afford with his tutoring money. The people who had requested him as a tutor for class weren’t anybody he knew, suggesting that they were from the other sections, though the last name seemed familiar. _Temari S._ It was as if he had heard the name before, but there was no recollection of where or when he would have heard it.

He looked beside his notebook at his silenced phone, watching as notifications from Snapchat flipped by. He sighed, wondering what sort of drama was troubling the group now. He pressed his thumb down onto the home button and peered over slightly without a care that Professor Hatake would see; using his phone in class was a milder bad habit he had.

 **ramenking69**  
>delivered  
(opened by sakura_h, yama_ino, brocklee, neji_hyuuga, hinanana, akimichibuddafly, mangekyo, 10ten, and painttool_sai)  
  
**yama_ino  
** naruto if u send that fucking frog meme again I swear to god I will kill u  
I know where u live  
  
**brocklee  
** u mean dat boi?  
  
**ramenking69  
** lee gets it  
  
**yama_ino  
** i will make sure u never see hinata ever again  
  
**hinanana  
** please don’t bring me into this  
  
**ramenking69**  
not hina!

As bothersome as it was to get a million and one notifications a day from the cursed Snapchat group, Shikamaru could not hide his grin. His friends were always bickering with one another but it became so commonplace, it was weird when there wasn’t an argument happening. Outsiders often questioned how they could all form a cohesive friend group but the answer was always that they had to be in the know to know. These were people he knew growing up since elementary school, most of which he had no desire to get to know better back then. But, college brought them together and the bond was strong, even if they did butt heads every so often. He sometimes wondered if Naruto was not part of the group, would there have even been one to begin with? He often seemed like the glue that secured them together.

After class ended fifteen minutes early, a Monday custom of Professor Hatake’s, Shikamaru made his way across campus to the library. The sun was warm and soft on his skin, opposite to the cool winds that nipped at his exposed skin. He figured the numbers in his head, concluding that he would be able to get lunch after his first tutoring session and before the second would arrive. This would mark the first time he stepped foot into the library for academic purposes instead of hauling Chouji out of there for dinner or finding a quiet nook to take a nap in and escape the worldly noises.

The first two tutoring sessions went by without fault and lunch was tolerable. He spent most of the time going over his tutees’ work while they figured things out themselves, every so often asking him questions or for confirmation that they were doing something right. The job proved to be as easy as he suspected and he felt particularly smug each time he went to the library’s computer to log details of the meetings as way of confirming he was actually doing what he was supposed to. He applauded the fact that this was a good way for him to study for the tests, something that he previously had never done, only relying on his memory alone.

Shikamaru watched the clock inch closer to three, his final tutoring appointment. He would have been lying if he had said he wasn’t anticipating the last arrival of his tutees. The name _Temari_ itched his brain in a way that he did not like. He was ready to find out if he did know this person or if it was another little game his mind played by fabricating details from the tabloids he read when he was especially bored into real life designs.

From the high table that he claimed as his own for the day, Shikamaru observed the people who entered the library. Earlier, he saw Sakura and Ino who came and talked with him for a moment before they headed upstairs to study when in reality, they were going to catch up on gossip. His eyes were fixed on the double doors, one hand propping his head up. If this Temari person did not show within the next few minutes, he resolved to packing up and leaving. He could have texted them and asked if they were still coming, but Shikamaru did not want to go out of his way to do that when he could be able to squeeze in a nap before dinner.

He sighed, eyes straining from the sudden glare caused by the door being opened. He felt his heart hiccup at who walked in, all legs and fishnets and blonde hair.

He could see that she was looking around as she continued further into the library, her sharp green eyes tinged with a bit of confusion. He almost slapped himself upside the head for not being able to remember, but instead blamed it on the tequila.

 **Me (3:02pm)  
** I think the leggy blonde is one of my tutees  
...  
**Chouji (3:02pm)**  
no fucking way!!! Ur getting a second chance to talk to her

Shikamaru looked up again, making eye contact immediately with Temari. He was almost sure that her eyes widened the same way his did when he walked in on Neji and Tenten, all surprise and a little bit of embarrassment, but it was so subtle he thought he imagined it. He lifted the side of his mouth in a half smile and she took it as an invitation to approach, returning the smile.

“Temari?” He asked as she stopped in front of the desk.

“That’s my name,” she responded. “Going out on a whim here and gonna guess you’re Shikamaru? Guy who threw up at the party Friday night?”

He almost choked and felt the flush creep up his neck immediately. He was thinking of the best course of action to that question, wondering if he would be able to play it cool. If he denied it, he would’ve seemed like a liar trying to preserve his own pride. Would that have been an asshole move? It was indisputable that she was attractive; up close, he could see she had pointed features that made her a little different than the other girls he pursued. He wasn’t going to disappoint himself and Chouji by letting the opportunity to talk to her pass again. He could _not_ fuck this up.

“That’s what they’re calling me now?” He managed to say, his voice a lot smoother than he expected.  

She raised an eye brow when she smiled, though he could not tell if it was mocking or amused. With such sharp features on that façade, Shikamaru was unable to get a good enough read on her. That unnerved him.

“More like just me.” She slid into the chair beside him. “Lightweight, huh?”

He swallowed. Would it have been wise to disclose the Six Shot Tequila Night story to this stranger, vomit and all? Would that have been too weird? Or was it a better solution to just pussy out and say he couldn’t hold his liquor, when the truth was that he could drink almost all of his friends under the table?

Too much time elapsed while he thought of a proper way to respond. “All right, let’s get to it, tutor. I’m trying to pass this class.”

The tone of her voice was not outwardly rude, Shikamaru knew that, but the brashness in her words left him feeling as annoyed as he was whenever his teachers berated him for not trying hard enough.

“Okay,” he began hesitantly, watching as she unzipped her backpack to reveal a notebook. “What are you having trouble with?”

Temari pulled out the textbook and opened it to a chapter. Shikamaru couldn’t remember the last time he opened the textbook for this class. He wondered if he even bought it.

“Just a few concepts from chapter thirteen. The professor goes over it too fast and I wasn’t able to take notes, plus the stuff in the book makes no sense.”

That was fair enough. As he recited the concepts to her, explaining them in simpler terms that he reworked in his head, he saw that she was writing in a completely new notebook. It had him questioning whether or not she was _actually_ engaged in the class. There was slight judgement in the observation; he did jackshit in all of his classes, so there was only so much room he had to judge. But, he was getting the idea that she was doing the same as he was, just a shittier job of it. He could get by class without reading the textbook and zoning out most days, marginally passing tests through common sense alone. It was a feat that not everyone could pull off.

Every so often, he would catch her sneaking glances at him, the mood in her eyes still unreadable. It only made him more miffed, especially after her little offhand comments. Majority of the hour was spent with him going on about class concepts and helping her through some problems. She asked no questions but he could tell that she was having difficulties with a few things. 

The two of them began packing their things up, an awkward silence settling in with nothing else academic to talk about. He finished first, throwing his nearly empty bag over his shoulders. Pretty as she was, Temari was callous in a way that was all too troublesome for Shikamaru. He decided it would have to be a _strictly_ academic relationship for the sake of himself. There was something about the way she presented herself to him that he threw him off and he was going to trust his gut in this situation that it would only get worse if he chose to pursue her.

“I’ll see you next time,” he said in a plain tone out of courtesy before heading out. He couldn’t see for sure, but it felt as if her eyes were boring into the back of his head, like acid going through metal.

When he got back to the room, Chouji was seated in front of the TV they shared, blowing the heads off of zombies. Shikamaru threw his backpack to the ground and slinked his way to his bunk, flopping right into it.

“Hey,” Chouji greeted without looking at him, his voice mingling with the sounds of buttons being pushed. “So, the leggy blonde?” 

“Her name’s Temari,” Shikamaru said ruefully. He saw Chouji glance at him, but he kept his eyes fixed on the zigzags of metal holding Chouji’s bed up above him. 

“You sound disappointed. Is she weird?” Chouji asked. Shikamaru gritted his teeth, pushing one leg against the crossbar.

“No, she’s _mean_.” He realized how much of a child he sounded like when the words left his mouth, but there was no other way he could describe it. The little looks she gave him made him feel like a rat under lab lights, waiting for electric shocks of harsh comments to be made. He was used to being teased and made fun of, but only by his friends. Anybody who didn’t know him didn’t have the right to joke with him like that, regardless of whether or not they thought they knew him.

“Shit,” Chouji cursed under his breath. “That sucks, man. And here I thought I picked out a good one for you.”

Shikamaru blew a sigh between his lips. “You and me both.”

He rolled over and laid faced down into his pillow. There wouldn’t be enough time to nap before dinner; not that he could sleep anyways, as worked up as he was over that troublesome girl.

“I can’t wait for this semester to be over.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope i'm doing Temari some justice! i'm trying to base this off of their canon relationship progression:) 
> 
> thanks for reading and keep an eye out for the next chapter in about a week!


	3. snapchat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shikamaru learns a little bit more but still knows nothing about Temari. His help is needed and he tries not to confront the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to all the new subscriptions and comments! i really appreciate them :) 
> 
> just as another little note, as the story moves forward, we will be learning more about the supporting characters so i hope you'll enjoy that. i'm trying to integrate details from the canon into the story but i'll be changing them slightly so that they can fit in with the modern narrative. right now, it might seem like there's a lot missing but i assure you it's done on purpose! as i've said, it will all make sense in time :) 
> 
> i also apologize for the lack of ShikaTema; there will be more of them in future chapters, but for now, please bear with me while these chapters continue with the story building. 
> 
> anyways, enjoy-

On Thursday, it was only Temari who had requested him to tutor. He bit back a groan when he woke up at eight in the morning to that email in part because he wasn’t going to let one girl throw him off kilter this way, but also because he didn’t want to be the recipient of Chouji’s morning wrath. The worst of it was that he was booked with class from nine to three, small breaks in between long enough for lunch but too short for a nap. He wouldn’t be able to meet with Temari until after five, once he was fed for the night. This was particularly troublesome, since out of habit, he tended to be mentally checked out at six. Were these the burdens of a tutor?

The day flew by, much to his dismay as he wanted it to drag on and on as a way to avoid meeting with Temari. He thought perhaps if the day went on long enough, she might have figured out whatever problems she had and would cancel and he would have been able to flick bottle caps at Naruto until an acceptable time for bed. There was no word from Temari so it seemed as though he was unable to redeem any more wishes after the one to be booked with tutees, leaving him to grumble as he stalked to the library in the premature autumn darkness.

The library was always bustling with activity post-midterm. Tables were home to a number of loose leaf notes and textbooks bigger than newborn babies; they were littered with empty cups of coffee, candy wrappers, lost motivation and cramped fingers hovering over laptops. There were still at least five weeks until the end of classes and then the dreaded week of finals, but his peers were much more diligent and caring of their academic well-being than he was by spending so much time in the library.

He watched a person frantically pack their things and scurry out of the library, a perfect opportunity for Shikamaru to grab the table. He didn’t have much to lay out but one notebook and his laptop, so he did as a way to implicate the idea that he was actually doing something. He pulled out his phone and looked at the time – _5:57 PM –_ then moved to look at the newest Snapchat notifications he had.

Several of them were individual and random snaps from Ino and Naruto, the former having posted the same snaps to her story. Shikamaru hated when people sent him things that were on their story, so he took special note not to reply (something he knew that Ino hated) and opened the group chat pleasantly named _shit eaters club._   

 **ramenking69  
** >delivered  
(opened by everyone)  
  
**akimichibuddafly**  
what the fuck is that???

 **mangekyo**  
he saw a raccoon while we were leaving the gym  
he chased it across the quad  
and here we are

 **sakura_h  
** hinata come collect ur mans

 **ramenking69**  
u don’t understand this guy is HUUUUUUUGE  
>delivered  
(opened by everyone)

 **neji_hyuuga  
** is there an animal protection hotline I can call

 **10ten  
** its not animal abuse if narutos an animal too

 **ramenking69**  
I’m just trying to feed him some granola how is that animal abuse  
also that was fucking rude ten

 **yama_ino**  
hinata partakes in bestiality  
pass it on

 **hinanana  
** I thought I asked you not to bring me into these situations…….

 **ramenking69**  
u got that right  
an animal in bed    
YEE

 **hinanana  
** omg o////o

 **sakura_h  
** how are u two even together

Shikamaru was chuckling by the end of the messages, going back to replay the video of Naruto tossing granola at the sizable raccoon. Caught up in the amusing antics of his friends, he didn’t even notice that Temari was fast approaching. She was wearing a lavender sweater over dark wash jeans with boots laced up to her knees, lacking the fishnets he recognized her by. She walked like she knew everybody was looking at her, with an air of confidence that Shikamaru was unaccustomed to.

She approached the table and set her bag down beside the chair before taking her own seat. She raised her eyebrows at him in the form of silent greeting as she pulled out her materials. He wondered if her being quiet was a sign that there would be no more brazen comments. Perhaps she had gotten the message that he was never in the mood to joke around with her. He rationalized the argument by thinking of how this was a professional relationship; he was providing her services and he was getting paid for it. His eye twitched; that sounded much more sexual than he intended so he dismissed the thoughts.

“What’s up, teach?” Temari said after a moment, opening the textbook to chapter fourteen.

“Nothing. Let’s just get this over with,” Shikamaru said, glancing over the chapter in order to prepare himself for whatever questions she might’ve had.

He could see her raise an eyebrow out of the corner of his eye, her own eyes fixed on him. He still didn’t know what that meant, whether it was done out of ridicule and insult, or if she really was interested in him. That didn’t sound plausible. He could remember all the first talks he had with girls he liked (and even the ones with girls whose feelings he didn’t reciprocate); he could _tell_ if they liked him. He knew the telltale signs and made notes of them along the way, being able to know; it was something he did with potential friends as well. Shikamaru prided himself on being well versed in reading people and their intentions. That was one of his strong suits. Or was it?

Temari hummed. “Sorry, did you step in dog shit?”

The phrase caught him so off guard that Shikamaru’s first instinct was to smile; it sounded so much like something Naruto or Tenten would’ve said. He wasn’t happy with that response, however, as he caught the ghost of a coy smile on her lips. He couldn’t give her the satisfaction of forcing emotions out of him; he wouldn’t allow it. The smile quickly dissipated as he said, “No. I’m just ready to go sit in my room.”

“I feel that,” she said. “Fortunately for you, there’s only _one_ thing I had a problem with during this chapter.” She pointed at the single bolded word near the middle of the page. He couldn’t believe it.

“Only one?” He felt the blood rush to his face out of annoyance. “Why did you set up a meeting for a single thing?”

She shrugged with her lips pursed. “You’re the tutor, and I needed tutoring.”

There was no arguing that. He narrowed his eyes slightly, accepting defeat in that moment. He sighed and glanced at the word again, recognizing the concept as something that his own class had a difficult time grasping. That made this a little more acceptable, but it was still troublesome for him. He tried explaining it to her the best way he could, backtracking a few times in an attempt to make sure _he_ actually knew what he was talking about. Temari said nothing as she took notes on what he said, pausing every time he paused to rework his thoughts. He watched her while she wrote, her elegant script breezing across the lined paper in fine black ink. Even her _handwriting_ was pretty. That was aggravating. 

When they were finished, she snapped her notebook shut and began putting her things away while he did the same. They fell into that silence again, same as the previous session, thick and relentless. Despite her vexing attitude and mysterious, unreadable personality, he wondered if that was who she truly was. He knew people who were brash and prickly, but he knew the intentions behind those behaviors. There was nothing he knew about her to clear the fog. But, perhaps it would stay that way. He was curious, but not enough to do anything more than he had too to figure her out. There were bigger things in his life that needed attention than translating her actions into terms he could understand.

“Next time,” he began as she moved to feed her arm through the loops of her bag, “how about you just text me or something if you have a question about like one thing.”

She looked up at him quickly, a little twinkle in her eye with the way the lights hit them at that angle. He didn’t want to come to the library if he didn’t have to, so it was the best solution he could think of. He suspected she wouldn’t text him often, and it might snuff out the fires behind her snippy little comments if they were communicating over texts as opposed to face to face.

“Sounds like a deal,” she responded coolly. He reached into his pocket for his phone and opened the email containing her information, sending a text directly after tapping the highlighted number.

Temari was focused on her phone with her back to the door. Shikamaru moved to leave but was surprised by the person who walked in with intent on approaching them. A guy with bright red hair, strongly contrasting his pale skin, weaved his way through the groups of people and tables. He moved smoothly, the same way that reminded Shikamaru of sand flowing in an hourglass. His face was clear of any emotion, though it would’ve been hard to determine any to begin with as Shikamaru noticed he was lacking eyebrows. As he came closer to them, Temari looked up at the sudden presence and smiled. Upon closer inspection, it was obvious that they were related to some degree; he had the same piercing green eyes, outlined in dark black, that matched Temari’s.

“Gaara,” Temari said, standing up. “What a surprise! What’s up?”

“Kankuro wanted to get ice cream,” Gaara responded in a quiet voice. “I was going to text you but then I remembered you were here so I thought I’d come get you instead.”

Shikamaru looked between them, all of their words but “ice cream” meaning nothing to him. Temari must have noticed as she looked at him over her shoulder. She took a step back and motioned from him to Gaara.

“This is my brother, Gaara,” she said to him. “And Gaara, this is my tutor, Shikamaru.”

The two siblings shared a knowing look, something that was unspoken and foreign to Shikamaru, until Gaara nodded at him. He didn’t really know how to handle the situation besides raising his hand for a feeble wave. He wondered why it was important that they were introduced since there was barely any friendship between himself and Temari but he appreciated her sudden stroke of niceness.

The two of them started talking again, though they didn’t move to leave which left Shikamaru standing there awkwardly for a moment. He started shuffling away until he noticed a familiar flash of yellow come out of the side stairwell.

“Naruto!” Shikamaru called, hoping that his blond friend didn’t have his headphones in blaring music. A blessing was finally bestowed upon him as Naruto turned around, looking for who called his name.

“I’m gonna head out. Uh, nice meeting you,” he said to Gaara before he looked over at Temari and said, “and I’ll see you later.”

Temari only nodded, her eyes still unreadable to him. He could hear their voices as he walked away, their words becoming hushed and untraceable from the distance he was putting between them and himself.

Naruto had paused at the door, though as Shikamaru neared, he began to wave. He found that odd as Naruto often loudly announced his greetings but a sudden thought had him looking over his shoulder for any confirmation of his suspicion. As he speculated, he caught the tail end of hard-to-miss Gaara’s wave back to Naruto.  Shikamaru had been friends with Naruto since elementary school, but he could not recall any mention of a _Gaara_ over the duration of their friendship. As he thought about it more, he couldn’t remember any times he saw either Temari or her brother on campus prior to this semester. He was a perceptive person who took note of details everywhere he went despite his lazy tendencies. How did he miss these two people who stood out like paint splatter against a white wall?

“Hey, dude,” Naruto greeted as they made their way out of the library. “How do you know Gaara?”

“I don’t,” Shikamaru responded. “How do _you_ know him?”

Naruto grinned with his thumbs tucked behind the straps of his backpack. “It’s actually kind of a funny story.

Growing up, I spent a couple of years in this program for gifted children or whatever the fuck they called it and Gaara was part of the Sunagakure’s branch of the program. They brought the other branches together sometimes to get to know each other. We kind of didn’t get along at first, as if that’s a surprise,” he paused to laugh, “but anyways, we actually had a lot of stuff in common. I lost contact with him by high school, _but_ then he got a hold of me over the summer and told me he and his siblings were transferring. Something about his dad wanting them to have a more well-rounded education or whatever.”

They stopped outside of their building’s door, Shikamaru staring at Naruto with a dumbfounded look. “I literally did not know that about you. What the fuck.”

“Oh?” Naruto was the one who seemed surprised now, his eyebrows raised so high they nearly touched his hairline. He cocked his head to the side. “I really haven’t told you that one?”

Shikamaru frowned. “I’ve been friends with you for _ever_ and you’ve never mentioned it once.”

Naruto pursed his lips and scratched at his neck, eyes looking upward as if he was trying to recall. After a moment, he shrugged his shoulders. “Well, you know now!”

“Yeah, I guess,” Shikamaru said, holding his wallet up to the scanner of the door. 

They walked down the hall, Shikamaru keeping silent while Naruto told him a more in-depth narrative of his encounter with the “fat as shit” raccoon. The two of them parted ways at the end of the hallway in front of the door to the stairwell; Naruto headed up the flights of stairs to Hinata’s room while he himself went down. 

As he descended the steps, he thought about the information Naruto had disclosed to him. It suddenly made much more sense as to why he’d never seen them on campus before. It also explained _why_ they were at Konohagakure’s State College as opposed to any of the other surrounding state colleges; theirs was the largest and most successful of the Great Five, as the states were known politically. He didn’t keep up with the news as often as he would have liked, but his father regularly sent him articles detailing Sunagakure’s handle of the recession they were experiencing. From what he could remember, their Kage – known there colloquially as the _Kazekage_ – was having difficulties raising his state out of it; there were educational budget cuts among other things that money was being pulled from to keep the state from deteriorating. 

It was a smart move to send one’s children to Konohagakure, he applauded as he unlocked his door, but it didn’t change the fact that Temari’s incomprehensible personality was still a drag.

* * *

 

He drove down the residential street with the radio on low while he anxiously tapped the steering wheel. He hadn’t had a cigarette since last night and he made sure to wear freshly washed clothes. It was just a little over eleven in the morning on Saturday when he turned the steering wheel with one hand to the left, pulling into a street lined with houses. He slowed down, passing cookie-cutter homes, until he turned towards one on his right. His fifteen-year-old sedan, handed down to him from his father, groaned in protest to the right turn but he continued to pull up next to the maroon car parked in the left of the driveway.

Shikamaru sighed, throwing the door open and glancing up at the sky. It was overcast, the sky marred with clouds of differing shades of grey folding over each other. He wouldn’t have been surprised if it started raining; he could smell the wetness in the air, indicative of a storm approaching. He reached up and tugged his right ear, feeling the metal knob pierced through his skin. It was cold and hard against his forefinger. 

When he rang the doorbell, he could see a darkened figure come down the stairs. The door swung open and he smiled, warmth washing over him from seeing a familiar face.

“Shikamaru,” Kurenai greeted with a welcoming smile, leaning forward to give him a hug. “It’s so good to see you.”

He wrapped his arms around the older woman, patting her on the shoulder. He caught sight of the dark circles that lined the bottom of her eyes, a twinge of concern tugging in his chest. He gave her another squeeze before saying, “You too.”

Shikamaru entered the home and kicked his shoes off, taking in the smell of clean laundry and the “Ocean Spray” candle on the mantle. These were scents he was unaccustomed to given his boy-ridden environment, but it was hardly a complaint.

“Thank you so much for coming on such short notice,” Kurenai said while she stood in front of a mirror, combing her fingers through her hair. “I couldn’t get a hold of anyone else.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Shikamaru replied, stuffing his hands into his pockets.  

The words seemingly went over her head as she continued in an apologetic tone, “I know you’re busy with school so I really do appreciate it.”

The pocket over his heart felt a little heavier, but he shook his head. “It’s really no problem, I promise.” The words dropped from his mouth and sounded as if they had hit the floor, but he realized it was his own heart pounding against his chest that made the noise. He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat, blowing a breath between his lips to steady his voice. “You know you can call me whenever you need anything.”

His voice was quiet and he averted his eyes as soon as he saw her lip quiver. He heard the earrings she wore jingle, assuming that she was nodding. When he looked at her again, he watched as she dabbed the corners of her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater.

“I don’t know when I’ll be back,” she sniffled, “but I left you thirty dollars for lunch in case you get hungry. It’s all I got right now.”

He smiled weakly. They both knew that that wasn’t why she gave him the money; it was for the fact that he was there when she wasn’t able to be, an attempt to pay him back for an oath he signed in blood. She gave it out of courtesy, out of respect for his position as a full-time student. But they both knew he never took the money; he never touched it either. It always sat on the granite counter and he always ignored it. Money was worthless to him in this house and his only accepted form of payment was through known security and safety. They both knew that.

“She’s upstairs,” Kurenai said hurriedly as she threw on her coat and grabbed her car keys from the mantle. “I just put her to sleep and there’s formula already made in the fridge.”

“I know the drill,” he assured her lightheartedly. “Good luck on your interview.”

She smiled, clutching the straps of her purse at her shoulder.

“Thank you, Shikamaru,” she said. The weight of the words meant more than gratitude for right then in that exact moment, but gratitude for the past, the present, the _future._

He knew that. “Always.”

An hour after Kurenai left, Shikamaru made infrequent trips to the nursery upstairs. The door was cracked open slightly and he could hear the soft sounds the baby made while she slept. He had been watching TV on the recliner when he heard her crying, bolting upright immediately and taking two steps at a time.

“Hey Mirai,” he said softly over her wailing. He reached into her crib and lifted her out of it, noticing how much heavier she was since the last time he had seen her.

“Wow, you’re getting big,” he thought aloud, placing a hand behind her neck the way his mother taught him as he pulled her close to the crook of his neck. He shushed and bounced her slightly while he felt her diaper for a change (slightly panicked and hoping that she didn’t need one as it was his least favorite part of watching her).

Unfortunately, her diaper was full and he changed it as swiftly as he could with a constant grimace drawn across his face. Once he disposed of the shit bomb, Mirai’s crying quieted for a brief moment until she started up again. He grabbed her once more and went down the stairs towards the kitchen.

Effortlessly juggling the baby, he opened the fridge and reached for the bottle of chilled formula. Shikamaru shook the bottle and let hot water run over it until it was a little less cold. Popping the top off, he moved to return to the living room but stopped in front of a picture placed on the wall of Mirai during her first birthday. He remembered the bittersweet celebration but dismissed the thought at once; he didn’t want to think about _that_ any more than he had to.

Shikamaru sat Mirai upright on the long leather sofa, recalling from last time that she was able to sit up herself now. He knelt in front of her, handing the bottle over. She took it right into her mouth, holding it with her two small hands. He was impressed once again that she was able to do both at the same time, her big red eyes staring right at him.

“Don’t move,” he warned her, as if she would be able to understand, while he reached into his front pocket for his phone.

 **Me**  
>delivered  
(opened by everyone)

 **yama_ino  
** OMG she’s so big!

 **akimichibuddafly**  
TTnTT  
those eyes kill me every time

 **Me**  
>delivered  
(opened by everyone)  
says she misses aunt ino and uncle chou  
since they never fucking visit

 **yama_ino  
** I’ll see you soon baby mirai!!

 **akimichibuddafly  
** rt rt rt

Shikamaru put his phone away, unable to think of anything else to say. He couldn’t remember the last time that Ino or Chouji visited Mirai without his company, but he couldn’t blame them. It was hard for him to come too, but he did it anyways.

At some point, he must have fell asleep with the baby in his lap. He woke to the noise of the front door opening, rubbing his eyes with his free hand while the other held a sleeping Mirai. He craned his neck and looked over at Kurenai from the back of the sofa.

“How was the interview?” He called out loud enough for her to hear but quiet enough as not to wake the baby. She looked up at him while pulling her heeled shoes off, presenting him with a grin. 

“I think it went really well,” she told him as she came closer to the sofa. He carefully stood up and handed Mirai over to her mother, then stretched his stiff neck.

“That’s good to hear. Hopefully you get the job.”

“Yeah,” Kurenai said. A look of sadness washed over her face as she glanced at her sleeping girl, a hand to the back of her head. “If I do, I’ll have to figure out who can watch Mirai and when.”

“I’ll come every morning over the weekend,” he told her in a sure voice, free of hesitation. There was reluctance in her eyes, he could tell, but he nodded. It was a promise. “I can come during the week too, any time after three if you need me.”

“Okay,” she said after a long pause. “But, you have to tell me if you’re busy. School’s important, Shikamaru.” She sounded like his mother.

“I sleep in ‘til four every weekend,” he deadpanned. “Trust me when I say this will be healthy for me.”

The sound of Kurenai’s laughter made him feel a little less tense, clearing the overbearing fear that was anchored in the back of his mind. He tried not to think about it. 

“Okay, okay. I believe you. I’ll let you know if I get the job.”

* * *

Later that evening, Shikamaru found himself in Naruto’s cramped room laughing as he watched the blond chug a drink Sasuke made him. It was composed of primarily Fireball, Sasuke’s liquor of choice, and a splash of Coke. Naruto _hated_ the taste of Fireball, it was common knowledge among the boys, but he lost What Are the Odds and was forced to drink it to honor the system.

He was in a good place; everything was beginning to become glossy and though he was still control of his actions, he was at that point where moments were hazy. He took a big pull of the Sprite and vodka he had mixed for himself, nearly spitting his drink out as Naruto faked vomiting into the bin beside him.

Shikamaru barely registered the vibration of his phone while it sat idly on his lap, but he reached for it while he taunted Neji with words that he forgot as soon as they left his mouth. The screen of his phone was black when he went to look at it, so he pressed the home button and was blinded by the illumination. He closed one eye in order to steady his vision, going over the notifications. There were a few from Facebook, some from Instagram, a couple of random snaps. He went to Snapchat and looked through the messages, opening some or none. He swiped left to respond to somebody when he noticed that the search bar was highlighted, indicating that someone had added him. He wondered if it was a random quick add, as they often were, when he moved his thumb to tap the screen.  

He felt his heart thunder against his chest suddenly, a force slapping him stone cold sober.

 **windblown_temari** _added you by phone number._


	4. notebook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shikamaru notices some things that only smudge the window looking into Temari's behavior even more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to every who’s been following along so far! this chapter might be not be of the same quality of previous ones because I had kind of a hard time writing it; I’m getting really excited for what’s coming so that’s what made it a bit difficult. also, I know I previously said that I wasn’t going to specify what year everyone was but I think I finally figured something out that felt right to me. the years are as follows:
> 
> senior: temari (a transfer senior), neji, tenten, lee  
> junior: shikamaru, naruto, hinata, sasuke, sakura, chouji, ino, sai, gaara 
> 
> I’ll be integrating what everyone is studying in future chapters since I think some people may be interested in that!
> 
> I also noticed that the more I write for this, their canon roles have reversed slightly—shikamaru is the one who’s embarrassed and denying his feelings for temari while also being the oblivious one, like he is in the canon. I hope you guys don’t mind that too much! 
> 
> lastly, for better time context, this is the first semester of the school year and I’m following the same calendar that my school operates on where finals week is in early December; right now, you can imagine that the gang is going through mid-November. 
> 
> anyways, enjoy-

By Wednesday afternoon, Shikamaru was sitting idly on the beat up futon he and Chouji spent many of their teenage years on in his basement after school. He remembered their desperate pleading with his mother that it _needed_ to come with them to college and that, no, they couldn’t get a new one. He could hear his best friend sitting behind him at his desk, mumbling every so often words from the textbook he was reading.

Shikamaru had just returned from the library, after spending an hour tutoring and another writing a paper composed of complete bullshit. His friends often praised him for being able to come up with things on the fly without the use of Wikipedia, but it was just his way of operating. He didn’t read any of his textbooks, only doing so as a last resort, and he often dozed off in class. He managed to get by through piecing bits of information together and filling in the gaps with pure intuition. His teachers always wondered if he had a learning deficiency when he was younger, worrying about whether or not he was all _there_ , until he scored marginally high on tests. He was a genius, this was something he knew and took in stride, but it wasn’t well advertised. He endured teasing from other people, peers and teachers alike, for being an idiot, a good for nothing, emptyheaded, average. But, none of that mattered as long as those who were close to him knew the truth. He was just lazy and lacking a drive for success; a drive he had once, but it was gone alongside the thoughts he tried to drown out.

His next tutoring appointment was at four, closely approaching with each passing minute. Temari had scheduled it, sending him a brief text assuring him that she had more than one question this time. His eye twitched when he read it, specifically remembering that the whole purpose of texting him was _only_ if she had one question. He responded to her with an even briefer “ok.”

He scrolled through Facebook and Instagram, liking things every now and then. He had one arm over the back of his beloved futon and was slowly sinking into the cushion, feeling the worn fabric rub against his neck. Shikamaru moved from one app to another, before going to look through his Snapchat stories. Naruto had taken Hinata out to lunch at some fancy ramen shop, both of them posting “Lunch D8” photos of each other to their stories. Sakura posted a video lamenting her day in the ER, a quick reminder to Shikamaru that she and Ino had recently started their clinicals. As his thumb continued moving past the little circles, sifting through his friends’ and random acquaintances’ stories to watch, his eyes fell to one name. _Posted 31min ago._

“No way,” he said in disbelief. “No _fucking_ way.”

“What?” Chouji asked, concerned. Shikamaru rubbed his temple, eyes wide and hyperaware of the flush setting into his skin.

“I added fucking _Temari_ back on Snapchat when she added me on Saturday,” he groaned, turning around to show Chouji the little circle beside her name.

He knew that there was something missing from Saturday that he couldn’t recall. He had gotten reasonably drunk that night, barely being able to get back to his room even though he only lived four floors down from Naruto’s. That didn’t matter much since he slept peacefully and woke up with no drunken troubles Sunday morning, save a minor ache behind his eyes. That was a normal occurrence though and could be remedied with a bit of water. Otherwise, he just enjoyed his ritual post-weekend wheat toast and scrambled eggs, more or less prepared for the coming week. He begrudgingly wondered how he didn’t even notice that they were mutual friends now and the fact that Temari surprised him yet again.

Chouji booed. “Dude, I thought something actually happened.”

“Something _did_ happen!” Shikamaru protested.

“You’re being dramatic,” Chouji commented. “Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”

Shikamaru rolled his eyes and flipped back around to face their TV. “I’m not being dramatic. I can’t believe this happened.”

“Remember that thing Neji said one time?” Chouji said, his voice slightly nostalgic. “Something about drunk words being sober thoughts, or whatever philosophical garbage he spews? I think that’s you with Temari, but like drunk actions are sober thoughts.”

Shikamaru scowled but kept his back to Chouji. “That’s bullshit.”

Chouji hummed. “Nah, I think it’s kind of true. Why else would drunk you add her back if you weren’t trying to fuck?”

His scowl deepened. “I’m definitely not trying to fuck. She’s a pain in my ass.”

He could hear Chouji “uh huh” quietly under his breath before he shifted in his seat, the sound of a page being turned filling the space of silence. Shikamaru sat there, hunched forward and held his phone with both of his hands.

“I don’t like her.”

“I literally didn’t even say anything,” Chouji said.

“I know,” Shikamaru acknowledged. “But you’re thinking it.”

Chouji let out a mocking laugh. “Did Ino teach you how to read minds?”

“ _Dude_ ,” Shikamaru pressed.

“Okay, I believe you,” Chouji acquiesced. “I believe you.”

Shikamaru didn’t say anything else in response, letting his best friend return to his studies. He looked at the black screen of his phone and pressed the home button, bringing him back to the camera of Snapchat. He swiped over to the right and scrolled down to where the story was nestled. _Posted 34min ago._ His finger hesitated over the name, shaking slightly before he tapped it.

It was a photo from her camera roll, dated from about two months ago. The sunset could be seen on the horizon, red and orange light spilling over swooping sand dunes like lazy brushstrokes. It was obvious that the picture was taken at a higher height, evident only by the tops of other buildings being seen in the distance. There was a glass on the rim of the balcony filled with what he guessed was red wine. At the bottom, Sunagakure was written in curly script with their state crest in green on the right. _Missing this view._

He had to admit that the photo was actually very nicely taken. It wasn’t anything he was going to tell her himself, but it was a part of Sunagakure he had never seen before. It was intimate and realistic, unlike the pictures they used on the news. He watched the story disappear as the timer ran out and then glanced at the time. It was getting closer to his meeting with Temari. Shikamaru sighed and lifted himself off of the futon, stretching in the process; the sounds of his back cracking were therapeutic. He reached over near the bunk bed and grabbed his backpack that was propped up against the side.

“I’m headed out,” he informed Chouji. “I’ll see you at dinner?”

“Yup,” Chouji responded, popping the ‘p.’ “Make sure to have some fun at your tutoring session, bud.”

Shikamaru rolled his eyes as he reached for the door. “Yeah, I’ll definitely try.”

The temperature was dropping a little bit more as each day passed, the winds becoming harsh against exposed skin. The Land of Fire, as Konohagakure was often dubbed, rarely saw snow but the winter months were as unrelenting as the summers regardless. His shoulders were hunched all the way up to his ears with his hands stuffed into his pockets as he hurriedly walked down the street; he could feel the cold air whip the hairs he kept tied neatly in his notorious ponytail.

The warmth that the library provided was more than welcomed when he stepped foot inside, the artificial lights bringing feeling back into his face. As he anticipated, the library as buzzing with activity but he was lucky enough to snag a high table with chairs that reminded him of barstools. He set his bag down onto the table as he took his seat, unzipping his backpack and pulling out his materials all in the same move.

He could see Temari enter the library in the distance. As she neared, he noticed that her cheeks were tinted pink though around her neck was a thick, cream scarf.

“It’s cold as hell outside,” Temari complained with an edge of disdain in her voice.

“It’s only gonna get worse,” he commented. She scoffed as she peeled her coat off, revealing a mauve cashmere sweater.

If he hadn’t known she was from Sunagakure before, it would have easily shown now. Although it was beginning to get much colder, most of Konohagakure’s residents were used to it. Many chose to brave the winds, with a select few being mature enough to swallow their pride and put on an actual coat. Those without an actual coat who desperately needed one though were never left behind. Everyone’s home was open to anyone, whether it was needing to get out of the cold or looking for a meal. Even during times of extreme conditions, natural or political, Konohagakure’s inhabitants were known for their ability to endure for the sake of protecting each other. It was something known as the Will of Fire; whether it was to help each other survive harsh weather or harsher political conflicts, they always stood their ground no matter the circumstances. It was for the greater good of the community, a lifelong lesson of compassion passed down from generation to generation.

“It never gets this cold at home,” Temari said. He raised an eyebrow; he knew where home was, but he wasn’t going to let her know that. Shikamaru always made sure to let off the impression that he knew less than he actually did. Whether it was a precautionary tactic or part of his lazy way of living, he couldn’t specify.

“Yeah?” He asked, humoring her for conversation. She looked at him with a quick glance before draping her coat over the back of her chair and taking her seat.

“Yeah,” she responded. “You know, I’m so used to the hot weather; I didn’t even know how to pack.”

“Tough,” he commented tersely. “The Land of _Wind_ doesn’t get cold?”

She laughed, the sound hearty and full; it sounded sincere. “Winds in the desert are hot. I would’ve been surprised you were able to guess that I was from Sunagakure if I didn’t look at who viewed my story on the way over here.”

Shikamaru looked off and rolled his eyes, feeling a little warm all of a sudden. He didn’t expect her to notice that he watched her story so soon. He didn’t know why he felt embarrassed; it was just a stupid story. Maybe it was the fact that she brought it up that made him feel flustered. He didn’t like the way that sat in his mind or the unraveling it did to his person.

“Speaking of stories,” Temari continued. “Anyone ever tell you that you post lame shit to yours?”

He furrowed his brows and narrowed his eyes. “I don’t post anything to my story.”

She pointed a finger at him and clicked her teeth, one eye closing in a half wink. “Exactly.”

Shikamaru frowned. Ino often aggressively scolded him for being a such ghost on social media, just lurking and barely interacting with anyone or anything. His last update on social media if he had to guess was probably an Instagram post from almost six months ago of himself and his friends from a late night out. It was so long ago he could barely even remember what he captioned it, wondering if the photo had a caption at all.

“Oh, don’t be too upset. I didn’t actually mean anything by it,” Temari said after a while, reminding him that he hadn’t even said anything in response. “It’s just an observation. I don’t really care if you post anything. You do you.”

“Uh, okay,” Shikamaru said hesitantly.

Talking to Temari often felt like walking into a room with all of the furniture moved three inches to the left; something was off but one would never notice until they closely inspected it. Except, no matter how much he thought about it, he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what made her different. She was as aggressive as the other women in his life but unafraid of uttering ballsy statements that would’ve required a lot of deliberation from a regular person to even think of saying anything similar.

He couldn’t decipher the coolness in her eyes; it was a complete mystery to him whether or not that was just her natural look, something that Ino and Sakura often called Resting Bitch Face, or if it was all a mask. And it wasn’t that she didn’t know how to be nice, he saw evidence of that when she introduced her brother to him. That was a completely unnecessary gesture and could only have been done out of courtesy. Shikamaru couldn’t decide if he was missing something or if she was just out of his span of understanding.

“So I really didn’t get any of this stuff,” Temari interrupted his thoughts, showing him a subsection within chapter fifteen.

He leaned over and read the text silently, aware then of how close he was to her. She didn’t back away like he would have thought, instead staying completely still. The smell of her perfume was subtle but unmistakably floral. It was a soft scent that reminded him of his childhood when he would lay in the grass to watch the clouds while Ino and Chouji were in the flower fields, the sweet smells wafting over to him with every breeze. It seemed uncharacteristic of her.

Shikamaru explained the concepts to her, stumbling over words as he continued to breath in Temari’s perfume. He had paused a few times, feigning a need to look over the words again but it was really to chew the inside of his lip. He would admit it was mildly petty of him to be so ruffled and slightly upset that someone like Temari was wearing a smell that brought him back to his childhood. The time that was associated with freedom and cloudgazing all afternoon, when he wasn’t anchored to real life by responsibilities and promises sworn to ghosts. He didn’t even know if he was truly upset; he couldn’t name the feeling that sat in the pit of his stomach (something akin to drinking tequila, he noted regretfully).

He wasn’t aware of the flush that settled on his cheeks until he noticed that Temari stopped writing, setting her pencil down.

“Are you sick?” She asked, the question pointed and straightforward. It was only then that she leaned backwards into her chair, the slight fear of illness obvious on her face. 

Shikamaru raised a hand to his own face, rubbing it as a paltry way to dissipate the blood that rushed to the surface. “No, just a little warm.”

“You get that sweater at a thrift store?” Temari asked, the string of words sounding rude, mismatching her curious tone.

He looked down at his sweater; it was forest green and cable knit, keeping out the cold winds. It was one of his favorites, so much so that he anticipated the colder weathers so that he would be able to wear it. His emotions shifted from unintelligible to offended, a scowl setting on his face. 

“Yeah, I did actually.” He snapped, hoping that his tone would not be misinterpreted. Temari’s expression didn’t waver, however, until she nodded.

“I dig it,” she responded, tugging at the shoulder of her own sweater. “This one’s from a thrift store too. One hundred percent cashmere and I got it for five dollars.” 

Shikamaru was taken aback, feeling a little embarrassed at his sudden tone. The small interaction threw everything off, making him reconsider whether or not Temari was as callous as she seemed. Did she not understand that her words could be taken a different way? Or was that her intention? He didn’t know and he did _not_ like not knowing things. 

“Anyways,” Temari said, “what were you saying about this?” She tapped her pencil at the underlined word in her notebook. 

“Oh, yeah,” he mumbled, looking at the textbook again. He went on to continue explaining the concept, recalling the examples that Professor Hatake used in their class earlier in the afternoon. 

Temari shifted her arm that was on the table and knocked over one of the notebooks she had also pulled out, the pages fluttering as it hit the ground. Shikamaru looked over and glanced at it until he did a double take at the book that was split wide open. The pages were filled top to bottom with notes, scrawled words in the corners that he could recognize from Professor Hatake’s lectures and the textbook. He furrowed his brow and continued to stare until Temari cursed under her breath, getting out of her chair to retrieve the notebook. She snapped it up immediately as she took her seat, a slight blush tinting her cheeks.

He looked at the floor where the image of the notebook was burned into his mind, words flashing at him like flickering lights, and then to Temari who stuffed the notebook into her backpack. He thought about the notebook that she was currently writing in, completely blank when they had just met and slowly being filled with his own words. She averted her eyes from his and he was unsure of what to make of that. If she had a notebook full of things from lecture, what was the point of having a tutor? Was that even from the same class? It had to be. He speculated that maybe she really did have a hard time understanding the concepts but from the looks of it, she took extensive notes. 

“That was the last thing I needed help on,” she said suddenly, her voice cool and levelled. He looked at her again and slowly nodded.

“Okay,” he responded simply. There was a new sort of tension now that Shikamaru uncovered whatever this was. It was awkward but charged and he didn’t know what to call it besides weird. He really didn’t know what to make of this separate notebook that was overflowing with notes from their class and Temari’s unexpected behavior. It seemed that whenever he got closer to decoding her, there would just be another landslide and he’d be back at the bottom of the mountain.

She was already packed up and ready to go, her scarf covering her mouth as she clutched the straps of her bag. “I’ll see you later?”

It was a question and not a statement, unlike her usual farewells. It required confirmation instead of acknowledgement and it left him near dumbstruck. What the fuck just happened.

“Yeah, I’ll see you,” he said quietly. Temari nodded and left on her heel. He watched her until she was out of the library, still trying to process what that was.

Her reaction to him seeing the notebook obviously meant he was never supposed to see it but why he wasn’t supposed to see it eluded him. Something was definitely missing but no matter how hard he racked his brain, he couldn’t figure out what it was. He didn’t think she was lying when she said needed help on some of the problems they were assigned, but it could be that she was feigning ignorance. Maybe he was overthinking it and none of it meant anything. Maybe he was imagining things.

“Hey, have you seen my sister?” A hushed, ominous voice said, almost appearing out of thin air like a ghost.

Shikamaru nearly jumped out of his seat, exclaiming, “Holy fucking—Who— “

It was Gaara. The literal redhead had snuck up on him, manifesting right beside the table. Shikamaru tried to think of when Gaara would have showed up but he couldn’t recall (partially because he was deep in thought, but that was beside the point).

“Hey, sorry,” Shikamaru breathed as he tried to calm his frantic heart. “You kind of scared me.”

“Yeah, I do that sometimes.” Gaara responded plainly.

He didn’t know what he was supposed to say in response to that, so he responded to Gaara’s first question instead. “You just missed her.”

“Oh,” Gaara said, his tone suggesting surprise. “I thought she was going to be here a little bit longer.”

The statement sounded a little odd to Shikamaru but he shook his head slowly. He began grabbing his own things and checked the time on his phone. It was almost dinner time. 

“Yeah, I gotta head out,” he said to Gaara, who only nodded. “See ya.”

Shikamaru left before Gaara could say anything, acting on the emptiness of his belly to hurriedly leave the library. He could see a handful of people in the distance exiting his dorm hall, knowing without a doubt that it was Naruto who herded the group only by the way the reflective orange that shimmered every time they passed beneath a streetlamp. He waved at them, knowing that the gesture might have been in vain but a few of them waved back.

He fell in line with Naruto, Chouji, Neji, Sasuke, and Lee, knowing right away that the girls must’ve decided to organize an impromptu girls’ night out. He kept quiet as he listened to his friends talk to each other, hoping that if he didn’t move as many of his muscles as possible he’d be able to stay warmer.

There was nothing to eat in the cafeteria, as per usual, but he made it work with a few random items. He hoped that his parents would call him soon, asking him home for a night so that they could feed him with good food that had more nutritional value than whatever slop he was eating currently. 

“Look at what came on my Facebook memories,” Chouji announced, showing them a gruesome picture of post-hospital trip Naruto.

“Isn’t that from when he got into a fight with edgelord Pain?” Shikamaru asked, his leg aching from the memory.

Naruto frowned. “That’s a shitty night I don’t want to remember.”

“I would’ve helped you Naruto, if we had gotten there earlier!” Lee exclaimed, disregarding Naruto’s comment.

Shikamaru couldn’t believe that it was only a year ago that that horrific night happened. It was, in all honesty, a shitshow from start to finish. It began at one of the bars they frequented, when they all still had fakes and the bouncer couldn’t care less about letting minors in. There were rumors of a guy named Nagato, who went by Pain for whatever reason, that had been harassing men and women alike. Police bulletins were put up to warn civilians that they should call the authorities if they ever saw him since he always managed to evade arrest and he was dangerous. Because of that, there were specific directions _not_ to engage with him, but as Shikamaru remembered, their friend group weren’t much for listening to rules.

He was there with Naruto, Hinata, Chouji, Ino, and Sakura, waiting for the arrival of Neji, Tenten, and Lee. He had broken his leg just a week prior, his cast weighing him down and making moving difficult. He could remember being propped up against the bar with an expensive drink that was watered down and mostly ice when he heard some shouting from afar over the regular bar noise.

From numerous retellings of the story, what Shikamaru understood had happened was that this Pain guy started taunting Naruto. Anybody who knew Naruto would know that he was no stranger to insults and jeers, so it wasn’t anything that he couldn’t handle. It wasn’t until Hinata had stepped in, fearlessly telling the asshole off, that things went completely south. Shikamaru had thought it was a stupid move on her part, but if anything, it was proof that Naruto helped Hinata out of her shell. She knew how to take care of herself, this was something they all knew, but she also avoided confrontation like the plague so he couldn’t understand why she had decided to get involved with a known assailant.

One thing led to another, things that Shikamaru could not see over the heads of bystanders, but Hinata ended up on the ground after being struck. Ino, who heard from Sakura, said that the action sent Naruto into a blind fit of rage. Anger was not unprecedented in Naruto, but Shikamaru could only name on one hand the amount of times he had seen his friend _truly_ angry over the course of thirteen years.

It was an all-out bar brawl that ended up being finished in the streets, Pain swinging on Naruto and Naruto swinging on Pain. By the time the police and the last trio of their friend group arrived, Pain was a bloody pulp that laid limp on the marooned sidewalk. Shikamaru couldn’t forget the way he hobbled out of the bar, missing the entire fight but not the sight of Naruto propped up against the tree wiping blood from his mouth. 

Some called it dumb luck that Naruto didn’t end up in jail with a lawsuit over his head the same way Pain did, but most everyone didn’t know that he and the Hokage were almost family. He always got himself into trouble and she always pulled him out of it, reprimanding him for being a stupid vigilante when the police were trying to take care of things themselves. But, she knew better than anyone that Naruto was the only person in Konohagakure gutsy enough to take on a guy like Pain by himself and prevail.

The night ended with alcohol being poured over wounds instead of into mouths at the hospital where the silence was almost as loud as the fight. Hinata had been fine for the most part except the purpling bruise that covered half of her face. Her boyfriend wasn’t so lucky, having left the hospital with three broken fingers, a fractured rib, split lip, and two black eyes that put the smokey eye trend to absolute shame. The picture Chouji showed them was the captured moment of Naruto getting dabbed on the lip with an alcohol pad, the painful grimace set in pixelated stone for years to come.

“Nobody touches my girlfriend and gets away with it,” Naruto loudly told them in a post-fight slur as if they were questioning his devotion to the Hyuuga Heiress. It was well-known knowledge that Naruto and Hinata were ride-or-die; the textbook definition of high school sweethearts who would go to the edge of the world for each other, no hesitation. They were the picture perfect couple, the type of relationship that people could only ever dream of achieving.

Shikamaru always wondered if he would ever be put in a situation like the one Naruto was in, blindly defending the love of his life against a threat.

Before Ino met Sai, she always insisted that he or Chouji would have to pretend to be her boyfriend for the night as a way to fend off the sleazy older men that hit on her but pushed them away as soon as anybody their own age came to flirt with her. Shikamaru always gladly complied, attributing it to something like brotherly instinct to make sure Ino wasn’t getting harassed but it was out of obligation for someone he saw as a sister rather than out of uninhibited feelings of adoration and dedication. 

He wondered if he would ever get to that point with someone, acting on feelings instead of rational thought. With the way things were going for him currently, he didn’t think so. 

Later that night, he tossed and turned in his bed, checking the clock every so often. It moved from midnight to one to two to three in the morning, sleep escaping his grasp at each cusp of the hour’s turn. He pulled his phone out from under his pillow and squinted at the bright light despite the fact that the setting was on the lowest it could have been. He mindlessly opened a few apps, refreshing them to the same page he had just seen seconds ago before he moved to Snapchat.

He scrolled down, ignoring the sudden quickened pace of his heart. He slowed when he was nearing his intended digital destination, clicking the story again. Shikamaru rationalized the action by thinking to himself that he really liked the picture, admiring the subtle beauty and differentness he wasn’t used to. When it expired, he went back and looked at it again, drinking in every detail.

_Missing this view._


	5. major

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shikamaru realizes that a certain leggy blonde may not be as bad as she seems. He gets a lesson in love from the person he thinks is least qualified to speak on it and a confrontation from the past sends him spiraling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all the comments, new views, and kudos! 
> 
> this chapter is almost two times as long as other chapters, but it's mostly made up of dialogue. the previous chapter and this chapter mark the transitional period within the story, both in terms of plot and shikamaru's relationship with temari. we're getting to deeper waters here!
> 
> enjoy-

Shikamaru squinted at the time while he held his vibrating phone, _Home_ typed boldly across the top of the screen. It was seven thirty in the morning, two hours before he was actually supposed to be awake. He couldn’t help the frown that settled on his mouth but hoped the annoyance didn’t translate to his voice. 

“Hello?” He croaked, his throat still scratchy from his voiceless sleep.

“Morning, honey,” his mother greeted. “Are you busy tonight?”

Shikamaru thought about it as hard as he could with his mushy, unawake brain. He sniffed and rolled over to face the wall that the bunk bed was pressed up against. “What’s today?”

“It’s Friday,” she said. He could hear little sounds in the background, cutlery being dumped into bags he guessed. She must have been getting ready to leave for work while also preparing his father’s lunch.

“No, probably not,” he told her after a moment more of sluggish contemplation. The most he was going to do tonight was most likely drink until he passed out, but he wasn’t going to tell his mother that. He rubbed his eye, a finger digging out the dried up sleep that pooled near his tear ducts.

“Great. Do you want to come home for dinner?” The question was like a shot of espresso, sending a jolt of energy right through his body.

“Is that even a question you have to ask?” He responded, pulling his blankets up over his bare shoulders.

“It’s too early to be a smartass, sweetie,” his mother deadpanned, the tone of her voice edged with the type of sternness that struck fear in his and his father’s heart.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Yeah, I’ll come home.”

“Oh good,” she said. He could hear the smile in her words. As fearsome and scary his mother was, he knew that she missed terribly him since his departure to college. And he missed her too.

Their relationship was always marked with indifference, mostly on his part for treading lightly around her. She had a temper and wasn’t afraid of being aggressive for the sake of keeping the household in order. He made it a habit not to do anything that would set her off. When he left for school, their relationship strengthened a bit in the way that distance only made the heart grow fonder. He could joke with her to a further extent, which was much more than he could have in his younger days. He realized how much he missed his doting mom especially whenever he got sick, being forced to rely on shitty cough syrup and saltine crackers that Chouji snuck out of the cafeteria instead of a mother’s love to get him through illness. It was the home cooked meals and reminders to put a coat on, or asking about his day after school. He made an effort to call every once in a while, even if their conversations were nothing but strained. She made the same effort, sending him little treats in the mail and handwritten notes that simply said “Love you. Mom.”

“I’ll see you tonight, then,” she said.

“Okay, bye.” Shikamaru responded before ending the call.

He pushed his phone back beneath his pillow and touched his forehead to the white wall in front of him, relishing the coolness against his sleep-flushed skin. He forced his eyes closed in a feeble attempt to fall back asleep but he knew it was useless. Once he was awake, it was done and over with. It didn’t help that he had something to look forward to after class now, so he thought about that instead of the headache that was settling into his brain from lack of sleep. He thought about the amount of laundry he needed to bring home and figured he could do that after class if he didn’t have any tutoring sessions.

At that thought, Shikamaru reached for his phone again and looked at the emails that were sent to him over the course of the night. He ran his fingers through his hair, one of the only moments he could ever do so, while he held his phone over his face. He had a tutoring appointment with Temari again sometime after his class with Professor Hatake and he had to admit he was a little surprised.

He still didn’t know what to make of that notebook situation. He found it interesting that Temari had even scheduled another session, but as always, any reason for why she would have done so escaped him. He wasn’t sure to believe whether or not she actually needed help in the class. He hypothesized that it probably was a way for her to know if she was learning the material correctly, but after a while, he gave up trying to gather enough evidence to support the idea. As long as he was getting paid for tutoring, it didn’t matter much to him if it was a lie that she needed his help.  

He yawned and rolled over, his arms dangling off the side of his bed. Eventually, Chouji’s snores were enough to lull him back to sleep even though it was only for an hour and he had thought it was just out of his reach. Listening to his best friend snore reminded him of all the times they had sleepovers during their childhood, sometimes with Ino too when her parents were out of town and needed to drop her off somewhere safe. In his last moments of consciousness, he remembered the pressed flowers and the saltiness of chips on his tongue; he remembered the sound of their childish laughter and the distinct smell of cigarettes.

At nine thirty, his phone was obnoxiously sending little buzzes through his pillow and into his head. He turned off the alarm and sighed, taking a moment to sparsely check his social media. Naruto had posted a picture of the massive LSAT study book he purchased. He often told their friend group that if he started studying now, he would be guaranteed a good score. He had been saying it since the previous summer, promising that today would be the day he’d open the book. His plan was to take the political position of Hokage, a dream he vowed was his life’s calling, but Lady Fifth told him he would have to earn it. As a pre-law and political science major, he was shit at academics but his determination got him through almost everything, defying everyone’s expectations.

“Did you get a call this morning?” Chouji asked, climbing down from his bunk to silence his own alarm. Shikamaru continued to lay there and massaged his scalp, scrolling and clicking through stories.

“Yeah, it was my mom. I’m going home tonight,” he responded. 

“You think you could give me and Karui a ride? My mom asked me to come home too,” Chouji said with a chuckle. Shikamaru nodded, not at all surprised that his best friend would be summoned home as well. If anything, it also meant that Ino would be going home and needed a ride for herself and her plus one. Their parents often got ideas from each other, especially when it came to calling their kids to come home.

“I gotta tutor later but I’ll be done by like four I think,” he said as he threw the blankets off of his body. He shivered at the draftiness of their room, the tiny breezes sending goosebumps all over his exposed chest. His phone vibrated in his hand and he could have guessed immediately what it was.

 **Ino (9:35am)  
** Shikaaaa my best buddy will you pleeeeease give me and Sai a ride home tonight???  
**…  
****Me (9:35am)  
** No  
**…  
****Ino (9:36am)**  
great we’ll be ready at 3:30!

Shikamaru rubbed his jaw with one hand as he typed with the other the same response he gave Chouji before tossing his phone onto his bed. He was mentally prepared to enjoy a nice time at home, but he could not deny that he wasn’t excited about being the fifth wheel in his own car.

He loved his two best friends though he rarely said so to their faces or out loud for that matter. For as long as he could remember, it had always been the three of them together at one house or another. Their parents had been friends, and their parents before them, and so on; the Nara, Yamanaka, and Akimichi friendship stretched as far back as the beginning of time it seemed, an inseparable bond that transcended blood and judgement. In his twenty some years of life, he had never known fiercer loyalty than he did with Ino and Chouji. He knew that no matter the circumstances, they would have his back and he would have theirs. It was out of devotion for true friendship and a little in part of upholding generational oaths, one of the few Shikamaru had sworn before his first breath.  

With highs also came lows, though, as Shikamaru had unfortunately learned. His best friends’ companionship got him through many shitty periods in his life, there was no denying it, but it was hard being the single friend out of the trio. Ino and Chouji went on double dates, inviting him out of obligation and as a gesture that they didn’t forget about him while diving deep into their newfound love. He always declined, choosing to be alone after the one time he did go with them; it was uncomfortable being the only single one there with no couple talk to contribute. He appreciated their effort, but it ended up being a grim reminder of his singleness.

“I’ll let you know when me and Karui are ready to head out,” Chouji said, throwing a towel over his shoulder. “It’ll probably be around four, too.”

“Sounds good,” Shikamaru drawled. He stood in front of his mirror and combed his fingers through his hair before gathering it all into a thick bundle. It made his face taut to pull the hairs that tight, but he thought of it as another way to force him to stay awake in class that didn’t cost five dollars like his daily cup of coffee. He tied his dark hair up with the hairtie that was wrapped around his wrist, adjusting it until he was content. He moved then to grab his toothbrush and toothpaste, shuffling out of his room to the bathroom.

The day went by quickly, Shikamaru thought as he made his leisurely way to the library. He couldn’t remember what Professor Hatake had taught them earlier, having spent most of the class period with his head held up by his hand as he stared out the window. He grabbed lunch with Naruto and Sakura, listening to both of them complain about their academic woes. Sakura proclaimed that she was applying to a mentorship program with Tsunade, the process of which Shikamaru knew was arduous and highly selective. Before becoming Lady Fifth, it was well-known across the Great Five that Tsunade was the standard of pure excellence in the medical field. She made the impossible possible and Sakura had her eyes set on following in her footsteps.

As he entered the library, Shikamaru wondered what the study session would be like today since Temari’s little hiccup in behavior. He hadn’t even known her for very long but it was easy enough to recognize that the notebook incident shook her. His genius was escaping him as was his pride, though, having spent the last forty-eight hours shamefully trying to figure out what the whole thing could have meant. He didn’t want to think about Temari for that long, but once the ball was rolling, it only picked up momentum. There were plausible explanations he came up with, the next more farfetched than the last until they were so ridiculous that he just scrapped the lot of them altogether. He settled with the idea that perhaps it would just remain a mystery, his curiosity of which would never be quenched.

His eyes scanned the main floor for an empty table when he caught sight of a familiar head of blonde hair. He walked over there with his hands in his pockets, knowing without a shred of doubt that it was Temari; he didn’t know anybody else who wore their hair the same way she did. She was also wearing another sweater dyed in a different hue of purple, a color that he had begun to subconsciously associate her with. He thought it was fitting that someone like her wore so much purple; she carried herself the same way that a person of high regality presented themselves as a more refined form of greatness. Whether she truly held herself to that standard out of conceit or whatever else, he didn’t know. The breath of mystery that surrounded her also came with the association of purple, he noted, reminding him of the way morning fog often looked mauve when caught in the dim light. 

“You’re early,” Shikamaru said as he rounded the table towards the chair opposite to her. Temari looked up and only then did he notice that she had earbuds in. A textbook was opened in front of her beside a notebook, several multiple colored pens sprawled across the table. She had one finger pointing to the last sentence she was reading, he guessed, as she pulled an earbud out.

“What?”

“I said you’re early,” he repeated, setting his bag down. She paused the music, faint sounds he could hear from the short distance between them, and looked at the time. The laugh that left her mouth was gruff and lacking humor as she shook her head. 

“Goddamn,” she said under her breath. Temari looked at him with tired eyes and a soft smile, an expression he had never seen on her before. “I’ve been here since nine o’ fucking clock.”

Shikamaru grimaced. “That sucks. I’m assuming by your tone that you forgot about our tutoring appointment?” 

“I did not,” she told him as a matter of fact, closing the textbook in front of her. It was a Calculus book. “Just annoyed that I lost track of time.”

“I bet. You’re a lot more studious than I am,” he commented, nodding at the color coordinated notes in front of her. She closed the book as soon as he acknowledged it, a brief flashback of their last notebook incident appearing in his mind. She was _definitely_ hiding something.

“You sure about that?” Temari challenged with a raised eyebrow, pulling a different notebook out of her bag. “Which one of us is the tutor again?”

“I’m smart, not studious,” he corrected, half a smile sitting on his lips. She looked at him and flipped open her notebook. It was the one she had been using since the beginning of their tutoring sessions and he only knew because of the sparse notes scrawled in the middle of the page, unlike the other notebook that was tattooed top to bottom with multi-colored script.  

“All right, smart guy,” she said, pulling a handout from within the notebook. “Help me with the homework.”

Shikamaru leaned over and looked at it. He had never seen the assignment in his entire life. It was unmistakably from Professor Hatake’s class, though, with the course code typed across the center of the page in italics. He tried remembering if he was assigned anything as homework but nothing came to mind. 

“I think your section is ahead of mine,” Shikamaru finally said, leaning back into his chair. It was the only thing that made sense as he recalled Professor Hatake making an offhand comment about their class needing an extra class period to go over once more the material they just covered.

Temari was taken aback by the statement, looking at him with narrowed eyes. “How are you tutoring for this class if you’re _taking_ the class?”  

He shrugged. “That’s a good question that I _do not_ have an answer for.”

She held her pencil out in front of her with fingers on either ends, spinning it forward and then backwards. “Okay, well this session is completely useless then. When’s your section?” 

“At ten,” he responded. She nodded, staring intently at the pencil. 

“Makes sense,” Temari said. “I was wondering why I’ve never seen you around but my section’s at eight.”

“Might also be because you’re a transfer?” He suggested, stretching his legs out beneath the table. She looked at him through her eyelashes, lips pursed slightly. He couldn’t tell if she was trying to hide a different expression from him, but then again, he could never tell anything about her to begin with.   

“Your blond friend tell you that?” 

“He did,” Shikamaru confirmed. “He’s friends with your brother.”

“Yeah, through the Jinchuuriki Initiative for Distinguished Children,” she told him reminiscently. “I remember seeing him whenever I dropped Gaara off. Or I guess I remember hearing him. He’s loud.”

Shikamaru couldn’t hold back a chuckle. If there was any single way to thoroughly describe Naruto, it would be _loud._ “That sounds about right.” 

Temari smiled. “He seems like a good guy, though. Gaara’s opened up a lot more since they became friends.”    

“Yeah, that’s Naruto for you,” Shikamaru said with a nod, thinking of Hinata and Sasuke in that moment. “He’s got a knack for changing people.”

She nodded this time, still fiddling with her pencil. Temari looked off to the side, both of them lapsing into one of those awkward silences. He didn’t have to be there anymore; there was nothing for him to tutor her on. But, his curiosity got the better of him as he glanced at the massive Calc book in front of her.

“Are you a math major?” He asked after a minute of silence. It was for the sake of figuring out what the notebook meant, he told himself. There was no other interest in Temari except for what that goddamn notebook represented.

Temari laughed and shook her head, eyes fixed on the cover of the textbook. “No. God, no. I’m a physics major.”

That caught him off guard. With no prior knowledge of Temari and her interests, he couldn’t explain why he was surprised but it would have been a lie to say that that was not what he was expecting her to major in.

“Still sounds pretty bad to me,” he commented, his head hurting from the memory of high school physics alone. “Why are you taking this class then?”

“It’s my last gen ed,” Temari said. That made a lot of sense. Professor Hatake’s class was hailed as an Easy A by Naruto, Sakura, and Sasuke during their earlier years at school. It was a simple enough class to take to fulfill a general education requirement and Shikamaru had thought it would’ve been an Easy A too until Professor Hatake completely flipped his syllabus. Naruto had made a smug comment about being smart enough to take the class before everyone else, as if there had been any way to know that the course would have been redone.  

“What about you?” Temari asked, pulling him from his thoughts. “What’s your major?”

“Haven’t declared yet,” he told her with a simple shrug of his shoulders. She stared at him, eyes narrowed slightly with a raised eyebrow.

“What year are you?” Her voice equaled the curiosity that reverberated in his mind.

“This is my third year.”

“And you haven’t declared yet?”

“Nope,” he said. Temari’s laugh was laced with disbelief.

In truth, he would have been considered a political science major, being a semester shy of completing the curriculum. He had enough interest in the political climates of the world, given that his father sat on the Hokage’s council and relayed sensitive information to him, but he didn’t feel like there was any point in pursuing something further. Perhaps sometime soon he would finally declare a major to appease his parents’ wishes, but in the present moment, he didn’t give much of a shit to do anything about it.

“So, what’s your plan then?” Temari asked. For once since meeting her, he was able to read the clear emotion on her face. She was genuinely curious, he could tell by the way her eyebrows were knitted together slightly and the small crinkles near her eyes.

He shrugged again. “Don’t really have one right now.”

“You’re kidding,” she deadpanned. He shook his head.

“I guess if I really _had_ to define a plan,” he began, “mine is to average a C+ GPA for the school year.”

Temari scoffed. “I thought you said you were smart?”

“Smart, not studious,” he reminded her. “Besides, anyone who says they’ve figured out their life plan at this age is lying.” 

Perhaps he was projecting his own feelings to those around him, but Shikamaru knew a great deal of students who were just as lost as he was. He didn’t know what he was going to do after undergraduate school, having too much pride to admit that he had no sense of direction of where to go anymore. It was one of those things he kept underground, buried beneath all of his other thoughts and played it off as a joke, much to his mother’s dismay. In all truth, he was terrified of the future, unsure of everything. But, if he ignored it, he didn’t have to think about it and deal with the overbearing feelings of dread and existential confusion. It was one of those things he figured that if he waited it out long enough, things would just fall into place with minimal effort on his part. He’d been waiting for two years now, but there wasn’t any room in his mind to acknowledge that and it scared him to know that he’d have to make a move at some point. 

“I beg to differ,” Temari said with a great deal of confidence.

He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“My plan is to graduate from here with my physics degree and then go into aeronautical engineering.” The conviction in her voice was so certain and unbreakable, with the same force as a windstorm. He was surprised yet again.

“That sounds ambitious,” he commented. 

“Yeah, well, I kind of need ambition if I want to bring my state out of its recession,” she told him. “Once Gaara becomes Kazekage, we’re hoping that by introducing renewable energy through the use of wind turbines, it’ll help with our economy and set us back onto our feet.”

He could hear the record scratch in his mind. “Wait, what?”

“What?” 

“You just said your brother is going to become Kazekage?” Shikamaru asked.

“Yeah, he’s next in line,” Temari explained. “Once he graduates, Old man Rasa is stepping down.”

“That makes you like political royalty,” he said, still a little startled. 

Unlike Konohagakure, which operated under appointed succession, the title of Kazekage in Sunagakure was hereditary. Temari’s haughty behavior and resplendent stature suddenly made much more sense; as the daughter of a Kage, she lived a completely different life than most. She had a reputation even before she was born, something she must have had to keep in check all her life. He thought about her plan to implement wind turbines to their state, a lofty goal no doubt, but he admired her dedication and nobility in that moment. Maybe he had her pegged wrong after all.

“As royal as my broke ass state makes me,” Temari countered. Her words were meant to be light and interpreted as a joke, but the sadness and unease in her eyes spoke otherwise. Another silence fell over them, though this one was a little more comfortable than the last. 

Their conversation had revealed much more than Shikamaru could have ever imagined. He would have never thought that he would be tutoring the daughter of political leader Rasa, and whether or not she actually needed to the tutoring still escaped him. She was callous and brash, but having lived in an environment that was riddled with economic decay could make anybody that way. She had a sense of pride and enough direction to guide her towards her goal of fixing her home. It was much more than he could say about himself.

“Anyone ever tell you that you look like a pineapple?” Temari said suddenly, snapping him out of his thoughts. As he refocused, he noticed that she was sitting forward with her chin held up by her hand. Their eyes met when hers fell from his ponytail to his, making him feel a little overwhelmed by the depth of her green eyes, but she only tilted her head and smiled; it was meant as a challenge.

“It takes a pineapple farm to know a pineapple,” he drawled, the traces of a smirk barely evident on his lips as he nodded at her hair. He was grateful for her shift in attitude; he wasn’t sure if he was prepared to hear about her thoughts on Sunagakure’s recession since finding out so much about her and her connection to the state in such a short amount of time.

Temari’s nose crinkled as she grinned at him, the amusement on her face clear as day. There was the unknown tequila feeling at the bottom of his belly again, making him feel both uneasy and _not_ at the same time.

His phone suddenly vibrated in his back pocket, reminding him that he actually had to be somewhere. When he pulled it out, he saw that he had multiple snaps from Chouji and Ino, as well as a text from the latter. They had to leave soon.

“Shit,” he said under his breath, standing up suddenly. “Sorry, I gotta go.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she said in a smooth voice. “You technically didn’t even have to be here.”

He bit the inside of his lip as a way to combat the blush that rose to his face. She was right; he didn’t need to stay after she told him she had nothing for him to help her with. He had to admit that their conversation was better and more appreciated than the ones they had in the past two weeks; he realized how easy it was to talk to Temari. He still couldn’t say for sure if he had to climb over walls to get to this point with her, or if he was just missing something, but there was a bit of guilt in his previous thoughts of her. There was a lot more that met the eye with her, he knew that for certain now.

“I’ll see you,” he said as he began walking away. Temari smiled at him again, sending him off with a little wave.

Shikamaru walked quickly to his dorm building while also sending a text to the gorupchat he had with Ino and Chouji, telling them that he would be ready in five minutes. He descended the steps two at a time and threw open the door after unlocking it. He grabbed his phone charger and the pack of cigarettes that sat idly on his desk. He tossed a random assortment of clothes into his laundry hamper and grabbed the coat that was draped over his chair, the pocket that sat over his heart, heavy with reminder.

He gave one last sweeping look over the room before backing out of it, turning the light off and swinging the door shut. After locking it, he lightly jogged down the hall and out the door to the parking lot. Chouji, Karui, Ino, and Sai were all gathered around his car that beeped as he unlocked it.

“It’s about time!” Ino crowed, holding an over-packed bag meant for a weekend stay. “We’ve been waiting here forever!”

“We’ve been here for ten minutes,” Chouji clarified. Shikamaru rolled his eyes at Ino as he threw his things into the trunk, everybody else following him.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, your highness,” he told her in a sarcastic tone.

“Oh shut it, Shika,” Ino said with false venom. “Let’s just get going.”

They all climbed into his car, the vehicle groaning with each added weight. Shikamaru didn’t know how much longer the car would still drive, but he was grateful that it hadn’t died on him just yet.

“How are you guys?” Shikamaru said, looking at Sai and Karui through the rearview mirror as he started up the car.

“Living,” Sai responded simply, a forced smile on his face. Shikamaru appreciated his effort. 

“I feel it.” He acknowledged with a nod, knowing that that was going to be the extent of their conversation.  “Karui?”

“I’m doing pretty well,” she told him. “It’s always nice to go home with Chouji for some good food.”

“That’s the only reason you’re dating him, right?” Ino interjected lightheartedly. 

They all shared a laugh, the bickering between Chouji and Ino becoming background noise as they cruised down the road. The drive was not a terribly long one, lasting only an hour and a half, but the difference in surroundings was the most staggering. As they got further and further away from the city, they entered the familiar neighborhood that was shrouded in thick brush and massive sections of forest.

By the time he got to Ino’s house, it was pitch black out. The only source of light were the blurred lights in the windows of her home, the moon having yet to make a full appearance. He dropped them off, making a hollow promise to her that he would be on time Sunday afternoon. He, Chouji, and Karui sat in his running car for a moment to make sure that Ino and Sai made it into the building before pulling out of the driveway.

Shikamaru always wished that he lived opposite to Ino instead of Chouji, having to pass his own home every time in order to drop Chouji off. The lights in his driveway were bright as he drove by, spying both of his parents’ cars parked there. He frowned, knowing that he would have to park on the street. They drove another ten minutes while Chouji’s voice filled the space within the car. Shikamaru could hear Chouza’s voice through the speaker, asking again if they were arriving soon.

His best friend was still on the phone as soon as Shikamaru pulled up into the driveway. He waved at the two of them as they made their way out of his car, watching as they walked into the Akimichi household. It was quiet except for the soft hum of his engine, darkness engulfing him. He could barely make out Chouji’s final wave as he pulled out of the driveway he scraped his knees on countless times, turning back around to return home at last. 

The door was unlocked when he stepped into his house, the comforting smells of his mother’s cooking filling his senses immediately. She was at the stove with her back to him, but at the sound of the door opening, she turned and greeted him with a warm smile.

“Hi, honey,” she said, stepping away to hug him. These were the moments with his mother that he cherished the most.

“Hi, mom,” Shikamaru said, giving her a gentle squeeze.

“Dinner will be ready soon,” she informed him, returning to the sizzling mackerel at the stove as he kicked his shoes off. “Your father’s in his study.”

Shikamaru made a noise of acknowledgement before descending the steps to the basement where his childhood bedroom was located. He hauled his dirty laundry and nearly empty backpack down the steps, flipping on the light. Their basement was almost an exact copy of their main floor, having a space akin to a living room and two rooms sectioned off with doors. One acted as his bedroom and the other a miscellaneous storage space that housed whatever junk his father wanted out of his sight and out of mind.

He looked into his room, the scene just as he left it almost two months ago, with his sparse bed and middle school posters fading on the walls. He threw his laundry bag into the corner and then opened his backpack to grab his phone charger. He plugged the cable into the wall and attached his phone to it before setting it on his empty desk. 

He went back upstairs and past the kitchen to the hallway near his parents’ bedroom. The door to his father’s study was cracked open slightly as Shikamaru approached it, rapping it with his knuckles. “Come in.”

“Hey, dad,” Shikamaru greeted, pushing the door open. His father was seated at his desk that was covered with a number of documents far too important for Shikamaru to even look in the direction of.

“Hey, kiddo,” his father said, spinning around to face him. Shikamaru spied the opened beer bottle at the corner of the desk as he sat in the plush chair across from his father.

“How’s school?” It was a standard question, a way to open up conversation. Shikamaru knew his mother would ask the same, but she had more intent of uncovering an actual answer.

“It’s been fine,” Shikamaru answered curtly, hoping that his father wouldn’t probe further.

Thankfully he didn’t and only nodded. “Find yourself a girlfriend yet?” 

It was another standard question that he expected whenever coming home, his father often asking out of habit more than actual intrigue at this point.

Shikamaru rolled his eyes. “The answer never changes, no matter how many times you ask.”

“I’m just being optimistic,” his father said in a mockingly stern voice. “Maybe someday somebody will date you.”

Shikamaru scowled. “ _Thanks_ , that’s exactly the type of confidence boost I need in these trying times.” 

“Being optimistic about finding a girlfriend worked for me,” his father continued as he turned back to face the documents scattered across the desk. “Happily married for… however old you are _and_ counting. You’ll find your girl soon.”  

“I didn’t even say anything about wanting a girlfriend,” Shikamaru muttered in response.

It was half a lie at best. It was true that Shikamaru resented his singleness, but it was mostly only when he was far beyond sober reason and feeling particularly lonely. Just as the other pursuits in his life, he put in the least amount of effort possible when it came to looking for a girlfriend. He thought about it often, but it was one of those things he felt were out of his hands given his past romances.

“Also,” Shikamaru went on. “I don’t want to end up whipped like you. Women are hard to understand and I’d rather not go through the trouble of trying to figure them out.” 

He watched his father raise his arm, pointing a purple pen at him. “I agree that they are hard to read sometimes. But, you’ll meet someone who is kind and caring beneath the scary exterior, and suddenly you won’t have to try to figure them out anymore. You’ll just know she’s the one.”

“How many of those have you had already?” Shikamaru asked, ignoring the pen pointed in his direction. “I’m gonna guess like four.”

His father raised the bottle and swirled the liquids around, looking over his shoulder with a grimace. “This is my first one.”

Shikamaru hummed a disbelieving tone, folding his arms behind the back of his head as he leaned further into the chair.

“Want to know what I heard about Sunagakure?” His father’s voice broke the quietness that fell over them. He stacked some papers together and tucked them away into a folder, clearing the desk off before spinning in his chair to face Shikamaru.

“What?”

“Rasa’s stepping down,” his father confided in him. “He sent word about it this week.”

“I actually knew that,” Shikamaru said, pleased with himself that he knew something before his dad did.

“That’s confidential information,” his father said, aghast. “How’d you find out?”

“I know his son, his successor,” Shikamaru told him, picturing Gaara’s fiery hair and then his mind fell to Temari. “I’m tutoring his sister. They transferred to Konohagakure this semester.”

“’Tutoring?’” His father mumbled incredulously. “Is that what you kids are calling it these days?”

Shikamaru’s face flushed immediately as he made a noise of disgust. “Get your mind out of the gutter, old man. Aren’t you supposed to be the mature one in this house?”

Before he could retort, Shikamaru’s mother called from the kitchen. “Dinner’s ready!”

The two of them left the study and made their way to the dining room where his mother had laid out an entire feast. Shikamaru didn’t even realize how hungry he was until his eyes were met with the beautiful display before him. His mother had outdone herself by making all of his favorites.

His parents sat beside each other while he sat across from them, giving thanks to his mother before going right at the food. They ate in silence for a few moments before she cleared her throat, the telltale sign of his immediate interrogation. 

“How’s the semester so far?” 

Shikamaru looked at her briefly before continuing to shovel food into his mouth. He finished chewing before setting the bowl down in front of him. 

“Well, Naruto has finally started studying for the LSAT after many months of saying he would. Ino just started her clinical training in prenatal care. Oh, and Chouji got to dissect a cat and only almost threw up _twice,_ which was a proud moment— “ 

“Shikamaru,” his mother warned. He could see the tension in her forehead. “I meant for you. How is the semester so far for _you_?”

He lowered his eyes and took a deep breath. He thought he could joke his way out it this time, but it failed. “It’s the same as it’s always been.”

“So, you still haven’t declared a major?” She asked. He shook his head instead of voicing an answer.

She sighed, the sounds of eating resuming. Shikamaru ignored the feeling and focused on the food before him.

“How’s the baby?” She asked hesitantly. He tensed at the question, breaking away from his mother’s focused gaze.

“She’s fine,” he managed to say.

“Do you see her often?”

“As often as I need to,” Shikamaru said. He looked at her again, her face softening with what he knew as concern. 

“I know what she means to you, honey, but it’s been two years.” Her words were cautious and meant to be taken as a sign of care but they felt like knife wounds. “You have to focus on school and figure out what you’re going to do eventually. This is still your life.”

“I don’t want to talk about that right now,” Shikamaru said in a hushed but firm tone.

“You never want to talk about it, but you’re going to have to—”

“Mom,” he cut in, pleading. “Please.” 

He could hear her take in a breath to try again, but he saw out of the corner of his eyes that his father placed a hand onto hers. They ate the rest of the dinner in silence, the food doing nothing to fill the emptiness he suddenly felt.

He couldn’t be mad at his mother for acting out of her own instincts, and he wasn’t. It only made him feel worse to be upset with her but that’s how it often ended up. What he kept buried was intended to stay buried, no matter how much grave digging anybody tried to do, his mother and father included.

Close to three in the morning, Shikamaru climbed out of his bed feeling restless. He threw on his coat, grabbing his phone and the pack cigarettes beside it in one move. His footfalls were as quiet as they could be while he made his way to the attic of his home, walking with great care as not to wake his parents.

He jiggled the latch on the window until it came undone, shimmying his way through the narrow opening onto the flattest part of their roof. He spent so many carefree days there, watching the clouds roll by and wishing he could be like one of them. The space had always remained his little escape from reality. The air that met him was brisk but he didn’t mind. It served as a reminder that he was alive, sadly enough that he couldn’t run from the grimness of his thoughts. He fumbled with the pack, whether or not it was because of the cold or crushing feeling in his chest, he didn’t know. He didn’t _want_ to know.

The cigarette was his only solace as he brought it to his lips, reaching for the lighter over his chest. He pulled the stainless steel zippo and tried not to stare at it, knowing that it would just make things worse. He lit another day of his life away, inhaling long and deep until his lungs burned. He looked up at the vastness before him, silver dots freckled all across the black canvas of the sky. The moon was full and stared down at him.

Shikamaru took a shaky breath, placing his hand over his mouth with the cigarette between two fingers. He forced his eyes shut, trying to silence the thoughts that threatened to burst into his mind. He was doing so good; he couldn’t give up the progress he’d made so far. It would do nobody any good if he started thinking about it again, lamenting the past when the future needed him. It was getting hard, too hard. He didn’t know where he was going anymore. Everyone else had managed to move forward but him; he was stuck and he didn’t know what to do. 

“I don’t—” he breathed, his voice barely audible even to his own ears. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

A sudden buzzing caught his attention as he slowly opened his eyes to look at his phone. He had gotten so many notifications over the course of the evening but he didn’t have enough care to look at them earlier. He took another drag from the cigarette before picking up the phone and pressing down onto the home button, thankful for the unforeseen distraction.

 _From_ **windblown_temari** (2min ago)

He adjusted his coat and wondered what she could have sent him this late at night. Shikamaru let the cigarette hang from his lips as he unlocked his phone, going straight to open the image. It was a picture of her computer screen that had a PDF opened from their school’s learning platform. _What the flying fuck is this._

He went back and replayed the image after reading her caption, briefly catching the word “essay” at the top. He took a picture of the sky before him, typing away quickly with one hand as he rubbed his eyes with the other. _Looks like an essay assignment._  

She responded immediately, the photo being a picture of herself rolling her eyes. _Yeah no shit! Where did he pull this garbage from?? It’s almost the end of the mf semester wtf_

The pounding in his chest and the waves of thoughts had begun to settle as he sent her another picture of the sky, the stars easily distinguishable from each other. _It isn’t unlike Professor Hatake to assign a last minute assignment in order to make up for point differentials_

She returned a photo of her exaggeratedly unamused face, illuminated by the flash from her camera. _Is he on cocaine like this is not okay_

The chuckle fell from his lips before he could even think about it. He pointed his phone towards the sky and snapped a picture of the moon. _I wouldn’t be surprised if he was_

 **windblown_temari  
** >opened _  
Where are you? The sky is so clear  
  
_**Me**  
>opened  
_I’m at home._

 **windblown_temari**  
>opened  
_The stars look beautiful. Reminds me of my home. I used to stargaze a lot since there wasn’t much light pollution out in the desert_

 **Me**  
>opened  
_You’d like it out here then_

 **windblown_temari**  
>opened  
_You think so?_

 **Me**  
>opened  
_Yeah I think so_


	6. grave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visit sends Shikamaru to the past that he can't change, and another shifts his perspective of the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all the new subscriptions, kudos, views, and comments! they mean a lot :) 
> 
> so i'm not 100% satisfied with how this chapter ended up, but as promised, i managed to make it work in order to post it a week since the last one. 
> 
> this chapter is going to read very jumpy and be all over the place, because we'll be diving into Shikamaru's memories and jumping back and forth from there to the present. there'll be another note at the end explaining some things i felt weren't conveyed very well. 
> 
> anyways, it's a long one so i'll let you get to it! 
> 
> enjoy-

It was Monday night as he dragged his feet along the gravelly path beside the street that was sectioned off by concrete posts. The streetlights were as bright as they could be but were still no match against the waxed moon that was a lopsided grin in the night. It must have been no later than seven despite the darkness that suggested otherwise as he continued along, smoking a cigarette the entire way. He used the trashcan ashtrays as his markers, crushing the cigarette into the fine sand before lighting a new one.

Shikamaru usually drove whenever he decided he had enough courage to come to the place he had his mind set on. The last time he had visited, he only ended up there after walking in a blackout state. He made sure to go to bed before he ever got to that point of blackout wandering again. He felt like a child who was slinking back to his room after a blazed scolding, feelings of guilt and disappointment and regret filling his mind. He didn’t want to go. He never wanted to go. It was too much of a reminder of what had happened and how it was set in stone, literally. But he had to go; it was one of his ways of atonement.

He could hear his mother’s words echoing in his mind, her sad voice trying to pry open what was sealed away in his heart, mind, and soul. She was right when she said that he never wanted to talk about it—talking about it meant acknowledging it and if Shikamaru knew anything, it was that acknowledging things made them real. He wasn’t ready to acknowledge that any of it was real, even after holding Mirai; he thought he could just pretend it wasn’t real. If he pretended long enough, things would sort themselves out, that was his way of operating. Putting in minimal effort into everything else in order to put maximum effort into repressing his demons and avoiding accepting the future.

The gates to the cemetery were always terrifying to Shikamaru, a childhood fear that stained his heart and refused to fade no matter how many years passed. Being there at night didn’t help either, but he thought these ghosts weren’t as scary as the ones who followed him everywhere he went.

The cemetery stretched for eternity, all the way towards the blackened horizon and into the sky as stars. There were sections for the most significant families, some tracts of land bigger than others. The Uchiha on his left were a sea of stone, rippling waves of different heights indicating status and worth in the family; the smallest stones were the children, he had been told once. The Yamanaka were beside the Nara who were beside the Akimichi, an order that followed even in death. The Hyuuga were near the right, with their great mausoleums filled with riches to send their lost ones off in splendor.

He meandered through the thick silence of the cemetery, feeling as if he was in another realm. He supposed that he was with the way the shadows were bigger and loomed over him instead of blending in with the night like they usually would have. The sounds of his heartbeat and his paced breathing were the only things that sounded natural to him. There were few signs of life, things that seemed out of place in the cemetery; bouquets of flowers delicately laid over graves, food from home that was set out on fine porcelain, remnants of incense jutting out of the ground.

Four great pillars of marble were in the middle, with space on the right empty for however many more would be erected. They were for the four Hokage Konohagakure had seen so far; each lord having plots that lined up behind the pillars, intended for immediate family. Shikamaru remembered Naruto joking grievously that there was no need for the plot that was behind his father’s pillar since he was going to surpass his old man as Hokage someday. He could remember the tears that fell from his face to the ground as he knelt in front of pillar, fists clutching the first flowers he brought to the people he could finally call parents. They were tears of pride and joy and anger and sadness, everything that contradicted each other.

He broke off his gaze at the fourth pillar and summoned enough courage to bring him to the third. He was here to face his own unease; he couldn’t avoid it by recounting the hardships of his friends. His fears and worries were all gathered behind the great marble statue, his promises made and oaths he was expected to carry on for the rest of his life. He forced a foot forward, the other following hesitantly.

There were two gravestones behind the pillar for Lord Third, one for a wife and one for a son as the engravings read. He didn’t even notice that he had stopped breathing when he stood in front of the grave, his eyes falling to the flowers that were placed across it. Kurenai had come earlier, he knew. It was probably to tell him that she got the job, just as she had texted Shikamaru in the morning. He was happy for her but it didn’t do much to quell the flames of dread that continued to grow in his thoughts, instead acting as a fan for them.

He was being selfish and cowardly, like he always had been since he was a child. He was thinking of himself when he should have been focusing his energy to the other people in his life, he knew this. He knew he should have been worrying about his life in general but he couldn’t cross a bridge if he wasn’t finished building it.

Shikamaru slowly sank to his knees, bowing his head like he would out of respect for greeting an elder, but this was shame. He couldn’t look at the gravestone directly, couldn’t read the words, the same way he couldn’t look his mother in her eyes when she confronted him about his refusal to move on. He _wanted_ to move forward more than anything, to finally put everything behind him and honor the last wishes he was left with. But, he felt stranded out at sea with a storm that raged on and on. There was no sight of the lighthouse to guide him onward anymore, that light had been long put out.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I can’t do this, Asuma, I’m sorry. I’m not good enough.”

You kids and your rumors, Asuma had said when they were just months from returning to school for their sophomore year. Of course Kurenai and I aren’t dating, he told them, but Shikamaru knew better than that. Shikamaru was smarter than to believe a white lie when he could read Asuma better than anyone after their thousands of shogi games. It was supposed to be a surprise; the engagement and the pregnancy. There was supposed to be a lavish party and a chance for Shikamaru to point a finger and smugly tell Asuma he _knew_ he was lying. But, none of that happened. There were only tears and a funeral and a court case that was nothing but salt in the wound; the surprise was nothing more than a whisper into Shikamaru’s ear before he watched his life flutter away.

“I don’t know what to do anymore.” His voice was just a breath in the wind, being carried away with only the dead to listen. “I’m sorry. I—I wish you were here because you always knew what I was supposed to do.”

It was a Friday night when it happened. He was still getting used to the studs in his ears, the weight foreign compared to the hoops he had worn since middle school. The matching earrings he wore with Ino and Chouji were a testament to their loyalty to each other and their families as the next heads of their respective households, a rite of passage into adulthood given to them after completing their first year in college. It was customary a Sarutobi gave them the earrings, the real reason lost to generational mistranslations but upheld nonetheless. Asuma had been slightly different that night, as Shikamaru could recall, but he didn’t know what it was. It wasn’t until after the night had ended and the nightmare began that he realized Asuma was missing the cigarette that always lazed between his lips. He _always_ thought that maybe if he knew that he was missing a cigarette then, the few moments of pointing out the oddity would have been enough to turn the tides of the night and left them with smooth sailing.

But, he didn’t notice then and it was one of the several regrets from that night he carried painfully on his conscience.

They were going to meet Ino and Chouji at their favorite restaurant, one of the few times Asuma agreed to treat them to dinner before he let them loose into the real world again. Shikamaru had been complaining and mourning the premature loss of his freedom once the new school year would begin, but it was in all good humor. If it weren’t for Asuma, Shikamaru would have never applied for college. His parents cared for his future and pestered him to go, but he ignored them, writing it off as a parent’s duty to encourage their child to pursue secondary education. It was Asuma who told him of the values of a college education.

“You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, Shikamaru,” he could hear Asuma say. “Don’t let it go to waste by roosting on your parents’ roof the rest of your life. You have the potential to bring good to this place.”

He dutifully listened to Asuma and always heeded his advice, out of respect and admiration. There were people in his life that believed in him, people who knew he was worthy of great things to come, Shikamaru understood this. But there were very few people like Asuma who loudly and proudly reminded him of his worth and gave him a sense of direction in his life. There was never disappointment in his voice, only a slap to the back and a “try a little harder next time, I know you can do it.” It wasn’t an expectation, but a belief.

He could recall the rumors around that time of a ruthless terrorist group, now extinguished, who called themselves the Akatsuki. They were hellbent on destroying the factions that coalesced into the Great Five and were unsatisfied with the way the world was running under the five Kage, insisting that a new world order would be grown from the destruction, something like a phoenix rising out of its ashes at dawn. The Akatsuki were the one thing that his father never spoke of, or even acknowledged. The uncommon rigidness in his father’s voice when he said to believe that they were just rumors and nothing more was enough to stop Shikamaru from prodding any further. If he had known any better then, he would have listened to the gnawing doubt that bit into his belly to do more research. If only.

Asuma had been going on about Shikamaru’s tactical reasoning in shogi, complimenting his specific moves but also giving pointers on where he could improve even though he was the one who lost every game they played. He made up life lessons that masqueraded as stories for each of the pieces. There were talks about the pawns and the knights, the type of significance they had that could be applied to decision making in the real world. He spoke of the generals and criticized Shikamaru’s reliance on them. Asuma never mentioned a story for the king though, always prompting him to figure it out on his own. There was a special kind of importance behind the king that Asuma was certain he could decipher without his oversight.

“You might think this is all bullshit,” Asuma said in his grizzly voice, rubbing the beard that grew thick around his jaw. “But, it really does translate well into life.”

“Sounds like a lot of bullshit to me.” He remembered saying, the nonchalance in his words. It wasn’t the first time that he had told Shikamaru that, but it certainly was the last.

No matter how many times Shikamaru rationalized the situation, how many times he went over it again and again and _again_ until his eyes were raw and his brain was at its melting point, he didn’t understand why it had to be Asuma of all people.

The Akatsuki were not stupid, he discovered. They were not aimless in their acts of violence; everything was calculated and precise. Shikamaru had gone over every piece of information that he could get his hands on after the fact, some so confidential that his father risked his job just to settle the amount of pleading he had done on his knees in order to get a better understanding. He needed to know if it could have been avoided.

There were assassination attempts on all political affiliates of the Kages, even on the Kages themselves, he uncovered. Lord Third had been dead for years now and it was unfathomable to Shikamaru that they went after his son when Lady Fifth was in office. He couldn’t understand why they went after Asuma when he had no ties to the position, no ties at all to the political foundation of Konohagakure but the blood that flowed through his veins.

The Land of Fire operated under appointed succession, the current Kage picking their successor based on merit and qualifications. Lady Fifth was appointed only when Lord Third had died without naming a successor, being hand selected by the council of elders that were the only people with higher jurisdiction over the Kages. There would have never been a point where Asuma would have been named the next Hokage, by his father or the council; he would have declined even if they did try to name him.

He and Asuma had their fair share of talks of politics, criticizing what could have been done better and what was sufficient enough. Asuma had always been somewhat standoffish to the idea of the Hokage, the entire concept of which was foreign and unintelligible to him. This was something that he confided in Shikamaru over games of shogi, most of their fruitful and deep talks occurring over the little wooden pieces. He had conflicting interests with his father, he told Shikamaru, resulting in leaving his home and pledging several years of his life to the elite military task force known as the Twelve Guardians.

There was not much that Shikamaru could say about the Twelve Guardians, most of the information remaining a mystery and buried with Asuma’s ashes. The only thing he knew was that Asuma was a man of the finest military prowess, looked up to by many and renowned for his tactical planning. He had a certain brilliance about him in developing plans that resulted in the least causalities possible, a quality everybody admired for different reasons. He retired from his adventurous militaristic lifestyle and took up teaching once he finally returned to Konohagakure after mending his relationship with his father. He had become just a regular man and there was no reason he should have died that night, Shikamaru deplored, no reason at all.

They almost made it past the two men who blended in with the shadows, swathed head to toe in black. Asuma had known, Shikamaru concluded after deliberate contemplation, he had known who they were as soon as they bumped into him. He was still privy to the secrets the council kept hidden from the public even though there was no real reason for him to be, Shikamaru had found out afterwards. He never got a chance to ask why.

“Excuse me,” Asuma had said after colliding roughly into one of the men. It was almost as if they were intending to run into him, as Shikamaru could remember. Their direction was forward and they had no intention of moving aside for the two passersby.

“Didn’t your father ever teach you to watch where you’re going?” One of them had said, his voice wily and chaotic. The phrase was pointed, all too knowing; there was no mistake in that they knew exactly who Asuma was.

“Dear dad died before he could teach me any manners,” Asuma responded coolly. That should have been it, that should have been the extent of the interactions.

Shikamaru was on the ground before he could even process what had just happened, having been shoved off to the side by Asuma and colliding shoulder first into the sidewalk. The Akatsuki were as flashy as they were meticulous, he had thought, remembering the glare of a finely sharpened and extravagantly embellished knife that was pulled from the hip of the first man.

Asuma had his fists up, his knuckles that were notoriously rumored to be made of steel were bone white. Shikamaru had wanted to yell in that moment, but no words came to mind. He thought Asuma was crazy for attempting to even take on the man wielding a knife with his _bare_ fists but Shikamaru learned many things that night.

“Sounds like a good riddance to me,” the man with the knife had responded. “You ready to go see your pops so soon?”

“Don’t talk about my father,” Asuma responded through gritted teeth. Shikamaru could remember the other man standing there silently, off to the side with almost no desire to step in. It made him even more anxious, unaware of how to fully process what was going on. There was no reason for them to be after Asuma, he thought frantically; he thought that they were a myth like his father urged him to believe. It couldn’t have been real.

“Shikamaru, stay behind me!” Asuma had barked protectively as soon as the man lunged forward. He watched them move, one forward and the other stepping backwards to dodge the attack. Asuma was fast; his movements were perfectly timed and agile, almost moving fluidly. His eyes darted from the man with the knife and the other one, the one he assumed was his partner who stood there idly. He knew he had to do something despite Asuma’s orders to stay down.

Asuma landed a hard punch into the man’s face, the sound of something cracking had been so loud it was as if a thunderstorm rolled in.

Shikamaru was never one for violence or any sort of physical altercations for that matter; he openly called himself a coward and avoided confrontations on the playground when he was younger. He was not confident in his ability to hold his own in a fight, but he knew that drastic times called for drastic measures. He was a smart, observant guy with good enough reflexes, knowing that that alone would make a difference in a fight. If he was able to spot an opening and reacted fast enough to throw a punch into the small window of opportunity, it would’ve been better than standing around uselessly.

There was blood splattered on the concrete, both from Asuma and the psychotic man who grinned with red teeth.

“Putting up a lot better fight than I imagined,” the man said, spitting a mouthful of blood off to the side. “Doesn’t change the fact that I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

“You talk too much, Hidan,” the other man had said, his voice eerie and his gaze directed at them hollow.

“I think you need to shut up and let me have some fun,” the one referred to as Hidan spat, glaring over his shoulder. “Just stay there and look pretty, why don’t you?”

The brief distraction was just enough time for Asuma to charge forward, delivering another fist straight into Hidan’s face. Shikamaru had expected the blow to be enough to knock the man out, but it had seemed to barely register to his body; he had only staggered backwards slightly, almost running into his partner.

Hidan growled as he adjusted the knife he held and moved once again. It had been Shikamaru’s chance, what he had assessed as the perfect moment. He moved from behind Asuma to in front of him with speed he didn’t know he even had in him, ducking quickly and shoving Hidan near the waist. As he had predicted, it sent the man straight to the ground. Shikamaru jumped back from him, putting as much distance as he could have between them.

“Let’s just run, Asuma,” he remembered telling him, feeling winded and as if he was having an out of body experience. “Let’s call the fucking police and run!”

The whole point of knocking Hidan to the ground was to buy them enough time to get out of there, so that the worst could be avoided. Shikamaru knew that they couldn’t take these two men on; from what he had gathered, Hidan absorbed the hits and even seemed to enjoy them. There was something incredibly off about them and it was unnerving to Shikamaru. His skin crawled to even think about them now, remembering the dimness in their eyes. It was almost as if they were zombies.

“I’m not letting them get away if I’ve got them right now,” Asuma had told him, wiping his mouth. “I’ll take the risk if it means that I can do something to stop them.”

Shikamaru did not know what had gotten into him in that moment two years ago; he didn’t know what to make of the newfound dumb courage Asuma had. It wasn’t realistic that he could defeat these two men even with Shikamaru there, he must have known that. Shikamaru had thought it was a moment of hurt pride that fueled the beast of fight inside Asuma, trying to prove some kind of point to these two strangers. He didn’t know whether to laugh or scream, unaware then that it was much bigger than any of those things he speculated.

It happened in the same moment it took a heart to beat, the sound of a gun’s safety being turned off and the pull of the trigger. So fast and untraceable by the eye. The noise it made was like a whip being cracked, something akin to a ringmaster forcing a lion into submission.

He didn’t hear himself scream or the sound of Asuma’s body falling to the ground, he didn’t even hear the voices of the two men who bickered in front of him as they began they retreat from the scene. There was just the ringing in his ear, so high pitched it drowned out everything.

“No, no, no, no, no.”

He scrambled to where Asuma was laying limp, silent. Asuma managed a feeble breath that was punctuated with a cough when Shikamaru moved to lift him. There was so much blood, so much fucking blood. It was warm and the smell was so strong, it felt toxic against his senses.

He thought about the brief moment he begged Asuma to run. Maybe if he hadn’t done that, Asuma would still be colliding fists with the man called Hidan. Maybe if he had stayed down like he was ordered too, Asuma would still be here.

“Asuma, please,” Shikamaru begged through shaky breaths, aimlessly pressing his palms over areas of his chest. The bullet had gone straight through him, just between the ribs. He could remember his stomach churning when he found the wound, a gaping hole that continued to expel blood no matter how much pressure he managed to put onto it.

He didn’t register the scream at his back but Ino and Chouji were there beside him suddenly. He could remember hearing them frantically asking him what happened, tears streaming down Ino’s face through shock but none of it was distinguishable. The words were background noise to his short-circuited brain; it couldn’t have been happening. It wasn’t real, it was just a bad dream.

_“You know the missing story of the king I wanted you to figure out? It’s a story of the kids of the next generation who will make Konohagakure better. The unborn ones who will be looking up to you…like the one in Kurenai, our kid… You have more potential than you think, Shikamaru… You have a greatness in you that I’ve never seen in anyone else… I trust that you’ll figure out what to do…”_

“I promised to take care of Mirai for you,” Shikamaru said to the grave stone. “That’s what you meant right?” The whistling wind was his only response.

He was pronounced dead at the scene by the time paramedics arrived. Shikamaru had never felt that empty. Asuma had asked for one last cigarette, but didn’t even get to smoke it. The light went out in his eyes before Shikamaru’s shaky fingers could even open the lighter he pressed into the palm of his hand. His requested last cigarette became the first one Shikamaru smoked, attributing the tears that blinded his eyes to the smoke he complained about so much.

For a long time, there was nothing but emptiness in his head. There were no thoughts that bounced off of each other or any sort of voice that prompted him to make sense of the situation. It was usually what he did whenever something happened, figuring details in his head to make use of them in the future. The most thought he did about the death was to close it off and not think of it at all because it wasn’t real.

The blood had dried into his clothes and in the little valleys of his skin, leaving his hands trembling as he watched them wheel the lifeless body away. It wasn’t real. Ino had been wailing and buried her face into the crook of his neck like she always did since they were children, a habit that Shikamaru found annoying but not that night. The hot tears that stained his collar and neck were the closest thing to emotion he himself could feel in that moment, recalling the way he robotically closed his arm around her. He could never forget the sounds of Chouji’s sobs, the choking noises that crushed whatever was left of his heart.

It wasn’t real.

He was the one who told Kurenai, taking the responsibility to do so even though his eyes were unable to meet hers as he kept them fixed on her belly. She wasn’t even showing yet and it only stung more to know that they must have just found out she was pregnant. She crumpled over with grief and he squeezed his eyes shut, leaning into the door frame. They cried together for a long while, both of them aware that they lost someone so important to them for different reasons but of the same caliber no less.

He didn’t go to the funeral. They had asked him to speak but he couldn’t formulate words for a dead man that he didn’t believe was dead. It wasn’t real. He had spent the day in the rain, outside in his yard beside the Nara forest with the little shogi pieces. He clutched the king piece in one hand while the other held the zippo to his forehead. He had eventually wandered deep into the forest and let his sobs be freed into the silence of the trees. His parents said nothing to him when he finally returned early the next morning with bloodied knuckles that were riddled with splinters.

“There’s no greatness in me, Asuma,” he whispered, staring at the zippo he held out in front of him. “You were wrong.”

He had no more tears by the time the court case came, nothing but rage in his heart for the two men presented to them. There was a sweltering anger that almost suffocated him when the one named Hidan caught his eye and grinned much too smugly. They were sentenced to life in a maximum security prison, somewhere beneath the ground and away from the sunlight. He hoped that they would die as soon as they got there, hoped that the earth would collapse into itself and bury them. Even that would have been too generous for them. There could be no satisfaction when they still lost, not the court case, but in the fact that there was nothing that could bring him back. Loss through theft was the most painful, he thought bitterly, especially when it was a theft of life.

Shikamaru didn’t notice that he had started crying. He sniffled and rubbed his eyes with his sleeves. His mind was numb from reliving too many repressed memories, so much so that he couldn’t remember why he had even come here. Was it to beg forgiveness of his inadequacy to the one man who swore there was greatness in him? Or was it to search for some kind of clue to what it was he was meant to do? Perhaps it was both.

“Kurenai says Mirai’s started walking,” Shikamaru mumbled as if he was trying to change the subject of their one-sided conversation. Talking about himself was hard when there was no one to listen and say something back, so he resorted to talking about everyone else. He figured that Asuma would appreciate the update anyways.

“And I don’t know if Ino and Chouji visit,” he continued, flicking the lighter open and then closing it, “but they’re doing well. Ino started her work in the hospital as part of the nursing program and Chouji is up for this fancy bio scholarship. They’re happy.”

He couldn’t help the jealousy in his voice; he was glad that his friends were not still plagued by sadness and grief the same way he was. He just wished he could be there at that point of acceptance with them, instead of watching them move forward without him.

“Give me a sign, Asuma,” he said quietly. “I just need something to help me get back on track. It could be anything.”

Shikamaru sat a while longer in silence, lighting a cigarette for himself and another to place at the top of the grave stone. It was the least he could do for Asuma if he couldn’t do anything else properly. He stood up and dusted himself off, his eyes out of focus as he began to move away from the grave. There was the empty feeling in him again, a place that was once filled with ambition and desire to seize whatever he had his mind set to. He wasn’t sure if he would ever feel that way again.

He exited the cemetery with his head low and hands stuffed in his pockets, not caring that the smoke from his cigarette singed his eyes. He had hoped there would have been some form of revelation in his visit, something that would just click in his mind and snap him out of the two-year funk he was in. He had to be better, for his mother and father; for Mirai and Kurenai; for _himself_. But he was still stuck at square one, unsure of where the squares even were to navigate his way forward.

“I thought I recognized that pineapple head.” The sound of a voice that wasn’t his own felt out of place for Shikamaru after his time in the cemetery. It was also a reminder that he would have to return to reality, something he wasn’t sure he was ready to do just yet.

When he looked up, he was met with the piercing green eyes he was all too familiar with.

Temari stood some distance away from him and he suspected with the way she had her arms folded across her chest, she was cold. He was surprised to see her this far away from campus, or rather, just surprised to see her at all. It was odd for him to see her anywhere that wasn’t the library.

She took a step forward and he noticed then that he didn’t say anything back to her, the time to having already passed. The mischievous look in her eyes was scaled back and instead replaced with something he could recognize as concern.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” she said.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he responded in a quiet voice. He hadn’t intended for it to come out as snippy as it did, but fortunately for him, Temari didn’t react.

Instead she asked, “Are you going back to campus?”

Going back to campus meant resuming his regular life in which he was supposed to figure out how to rewire himself in order to grant meaning to his actions again, and he was definitely not ready to do that. Not yet.

“I’m going to a diner just down the street from here.” It was a place he and Asuma had frequented often for desperately needed cups of coffee and subpar food after a long day. It was a bittersweet place that didn’t make him feel any better, but it also didn’t make him feel any worse. It was a place of limbo for him to just _be_.

“Mind if I join you?”

He looked at her again and tried to wonder what her intentions were, but didn’t have it in him to think about anything that hard. He only shook his head and took a long drag from his cigarette in the form of a sigh. They started off in the opposite direction of campus, side by side in silence all the way to the dingy diner. Asuma always joked that the place would be shut down soon since it never seemed to be up to health code, but it was still open almost out of spite every time he mentioned it.

They entered the near empty establishment and took a booth in the far back. An older woman came and greeted them, pouring two cups of black coffee that somehow always managed to taste burnt while laying down two menus. He wasn’t in the mood to eat but he felt obligated to do at least something remotely human after his brooding. It was supposed to be meant as a first step back into life, he rationalized.

Shikamaru looked up occasionally at Temari as she flipped through the damaged and frayed menu. The silence between them that he once thought was awkward seemed comforting in the moment; whether it was because of her or the fact that he was sharing it with another person in general, he couldn’t tell.

Their server returned and took their orders – two eggs, over easy with toast for him, and pancakes topped off with strawberries for her – leaving as soon as she arrived. Temari took a sip from the black coffee and tried to hide her grimace after setting the cup down and pushing it off to the side. Maybe they would just sit in silence, he thought. Maybe nothing would be said and they could just sit there, passively accepting each other’s company.

“Okay, you big crybaby, what’s the deal?” Her statement was equal parts lighthearted teasing and sincere concern, but after this weekend, he didn’t have the emotional capacity to be annoyed that she was even attempting to pester him. It did make him realize that his eyes must have still been outlined in red from his lapse in emotional self-control, though. That was something he could be mildly annoyed about.

“It’s nothing,” Shikamaru responded tersely. Temari clicked her tongue.

“I have two younger brothers,” she told him softly. “One of which has been emotionally closed off for the first fifteen years of his life. I know when something’s up.”

“What if I told you you were wrong?” He said.

“I’m not.”

He chewed the inside of his lip and looked out the window into the dark. Did she really care about what was bothering him? He thought maybe she wouldn’t understand, even if he did decide to spill his self-loathing to her. What difference would it make to tell someone who was just a step above a total stranger? He ruminated over that last thought; maybe that fact alone made all the difference. He decided there was nothing else he could lose but his breath.

“I, uh, just came from the cemetery,” Shikamaru began. He kept his eyes on the blackness just beyond the panes of glass, but he could feel Temari’s bore right into him. He was really doing this.

“I have this—I _had_ this mentor, he was kind of like a second dad to me. He died two years ago and I should be over it by now but I’m not. I’m not. And I’m just stuck; I don’t know what to do anymore.

And I feel shitty because I feel like I have no right to _still_ be this upset about his death. You know Naruto grew up without parents—he, uh, he hopped around the system for a while and always got into trouble because that was the only way he could get attention. People always made fun of him and picked on him because he didn’t have parents but it turned out he’s the son of two of the most influential people in Konohagakure. They died to make sure he would live and his godfather was the one who told him who they were, but he died too. Some kind of freak accident where there wasn’t a body to even bury. And this all happened in the span of a year—him finding out about his parents and his godfather dying. Naruto was a wreck, but he managed to bounce back so fast.

And Sasuke—I don’t even like the guy but I can’t feel bad about myself knowing that his entire family was killed right in front of him when he was like five or something. His brother, who he was close with, was convicted of the murders until he was proven innocent, but that was almost fifteen years of hate Sasuke had built up for his brother. They barely got a chance to make amends before his brother died. So he lived most of his life as a lie for what had happened and couldn’t even reconnect with his brother. But _he_ managed to move on from something horrific like that.”

He paused his rambling and closed his eyes, rubbing the palms of his hands into them.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that it’s unfair of me to still feel this way when everyone’s had it so much fucking worse than I have. Like this isn’t even comparable to other people’s tragedies and I’m just being a baby about it. I still have a mom and dad; I’ve lived a somewhat comfortable life. But I can’t get over Asuma’s death when everyone else has moved on from it. And I’m letting everyone down because I just can’t get over it. My two best friends and I, we never talk about him anymore because I assumed they’ve already moved on. Nobody wants to talk about him because they’ve already moved on. And I mean, _they have_. They know what to do with their lives now but I don’t. And I’d feel like an asshole just to keep bringing it up when I’m obviously supposed to be over it.”

Their server appeared and silently slid their food onto the table but neither of them made a move to touch it. He returned his stare back out the window with his elbows propped up on the table, his clasped hands digging into his cheek.

“For as long as I can remember, I’ve just wanted to live an average life. Something so bland and unremarkable because I hated responsibility. I hated having to do anything. Live a mediocre life and die a mediocre death, that’s all I wished for. But Asuma changed that, ‘cause he was the only fucking person who pushed me to do my best. People get disappointed when you mess up or they tell you you’re not trying hard enough as if they know how much effort you’re putting in, but he never did any of that. I’ve always been a slacker and people thought I was just stupid and wouldn’t amount to anything. But not Asuma; he recognized something in me and helped me get motivated to do things. For once, I had the spirit of a go-getter. For once, I thought I could accomplish things. But it’s gone.

So, now not only am I a sad sack of shit, but my wildest dream of living an unexceptional life has become my biggest fear.” It was the first time he had ever said it out loud, or even acknowledged it for that matter. The thought alone was enough to scare him, but voicing it made it real. It made the fear tangible.

“I made a promise to him before he died,” Shikamaru went on, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I told him I’d take care of his kid—she wasn’t even born yet but I swore on my life I’d make sure she would grow up okay. Because he saw some kind of potential in me and I believed him when he said he trusted that I would be able to figure my life out. But now that he’s gone, it’s like he took that potential with him.

And I never thought I would be a father at eighteen.”

The humorless joke was badly timed and left a bitter taste in his mouth but it was the truth. He was naively bold to think that he could take care of Mirai when he could barely take care of himself. He kept trying even though it was essentially pointless, only doing so because he didn’t want to let Asuma down. He knew that the older Mirai got, the more difficult it would be to instill in her the lessons that her father left him with because he still wasn’t even entirely sure what those lessons were. It was too much responsibility but he didn’t have the heart to dishonor Asuma. The zippo was a testament to the promise he made, his blackening lungs a brutal reminder of what he swore.

“I’m trying to get control over my life again, trying to figure out what to do because I have to be better for Mirai if I want to make sure I can take care of her. I can’t live an average life. I just can’t. But everything seems like it’s out of my control,” his laugh was sharp and cruel, “so maybe that’s why I don’t have a goddamned plan except averaging a C+ GPA. Which means I’m _fucked_ because it’s the only thing I seem to have any fucking control over.”

They fell into another silence after he pressed his lips into a hard, thin line, concluding his loathsome monologue. He couldn’t deny that he felt lighter after admitting all of his pent up fears, but it didn’t change the fact that they were actual things that floated about in the universe now instead of just inside his head. That made him feel more fearful of the future.

He stared at the container of sugar nestled in the corner of the table when he felt Temari’s fingertips brush against his knuckles. He looked at her lingering fingers over his hand and then up at her. She had a saddened look on her face, her eyes were sympathetic and still like a pond. He didn’t know if that made him feel better or worse about himself.

“You have every right to feel the way you do,” she told him. Her words were gentle but steadfast. “Feelings are subjective and people grieve at their own pace. Yeah, what happened to your friends were disasters, but it doesn’t make what happened to you any less bad just because their situations seemed worse. Misfortunes aren’t a competition. And it might seem like everyone’s got their shit together, but I can guarantee you they’re still trying to move on themselves.”

His heart hitched in his chest. No one had ever said anything like that to him before. Nobody had ever validated his feelings.

“How are you so sure?” He asked. The smile that formed on her lips was soft but undeniably somber, the look in her eyes wistful.

“I’ve done my grieving but it’s hard not to miss a mother after nineteen years.” She shrugged her shoulders, and glanced down at her food before looking back at him. “It’s really more the idea of her that I miss I guess, because I was still young when she died so I can’t remember a whole lot. But I know that I miss her.”

He didn’t know what to say to her. Should he have said he was sorry for her loss? Ask her how she managed to move on? All words were lost on him. Temari must have noticed as she pressed her finger down onto his knuckle.

“So, the way I see it, just because someone had it worse than you doesn’t make _your_ feelings any less legitimate. You feel the way you’re supposed to feel after a traumatic loss, regardless of how much time has passed. You’re always gonna miss that person, you’re always gonna be working on moving on,” she went on, pulling her fingers from his hand. “And Asuma saw something in you that you already had, this potential that you talked about. If you can’t see it yourself anymore, it doesn’t mean that its gone forever—you’re probably just looking in the wrong direction.”

She unraveled the silverware from the napkin it was rolled up in and lifted her fork.

“Your potential isn’t out here,” she said, waving her fork around the area in front of her. “It’s still in _you_ , where Asuma first acknowledged it. It’s healthy to be afraid of the future, because who isn’t? But you’re trying to live there when you should be living here, in the right now.”

She sliced into the stack of pancakes to form a triangle and stabbed through the shape. “You’ll figure something out. So, I think you should trust Asuma about all those things he said about you, because he wasn't wrong. There’s potential for greatness in everyone, but it's in _you_ especially I think, since you’re still trying to care for his kid. That says a lot about you and what you can do.”

Temari met his eyes as soon as she bit down onto her fork. _Greatness_ echoed Asuma’s voice, sending a chill down his spine. She grinned at him, something candid and believing, leaning forward slightly. “And, just so you know,” her voice was hushed as if she was telling him a secret, “a C+ GPA doesn’t condemn you to a C+ life.”

She didn’t say anything more, instead focusing on her food. He was astonished, to say the least. He didn’t expect that she would say that much, or anything at all for that matter. He was surprised that she allowed herself a moment of vulnerability in front of him, which he thought was uncharacteristic. They were barely friends, if he could even define their relationship as something resembling a friendship. He supposed he was just so caught off guard by having such a genuine moment with someone like Temari. She was brash and callous, so he didn’t think she had it in her to be kind and considerate.

Her words carried with them the same weight that reminded him of the zippo over his heart; well-made and intended to last. They were not words spoken out of some kind of pity in order to get him to shut up like others he’d heard before; they were articulately chosen and he appreciated the fact that she was a sympathetic listener. He felt comforted for the first time in a long while on this topic he tried so hard to avoid, and knowing that someone was willing to listen and say something back was a good feeling. Her ability to look at things holistically said so much about her, he thought; she was able to be realistic but reassuring in the same breath. It was different, something he wasn’t used to. But it was good.

Shikamaru picked up his own fork and began to eat his food that was now cold. They didn’t say anything else while they ate; he didn’t think that anything could be said after that conversation. It was the type of exchange that needed to be developed in silence in order for it to be preserved, nothing was meant to interrupt it until it settled.

He thought about the little spot of scarred skin on his knuckle and the burning sensation he still felt after Temari had pressed her finger to it. He curled his fingers into a fist and uncurled them, the feeling still remaining.

“Is this check going to be separate or together?” Their server asked hesitantly, looking between them.

“Separate.”

“Together.”

Temari’s head snapped to look directly at him as he nodded to the server, confirming that he wanted the check to be processed together. When he finally looked at her, she didn’t have to say anything to voice her surprise and confusion. He just shrugged and went to pushing his food around on the plate. It was a small way to say thank you for listening to my life problems, he thought. It wasn’t meant to mean anything more than that.

He handed over his card, signed the receipt, and left a few crumpled bills he found in his pocket on the table. They both slid out of their respective booths at the same time, exiting the diner that now encapsulated their little heart-to-heart.

They walked along the path beside the street without saying anything to each other, their shoulders brushing every so often with each step. The silence was good; it wasn’t begging for any sort of things to be said, it just lived comfortably between them.

They arrived at a crossroads and Temari stopped, turning to face the left when he thought they should have been continuing forward.

“I live off campus,” she told him, nodding her head down the street. “Just down there.”

“Oh,” he said simply, adjusting his weight from one foot to the other. She glanced off for a moment before looking at him, crossing her arms. She shivered and hunched her shoulders slightly.

“Hey, thanks for buying,” she said. “You didn’t have to.”

He shrugged. He was starting to feel a little more like himself again. “Don’t worry about it. Technically you paid for it since I used my tutoring money.”

That elicited a coy smile from her, the humor reaching her eyes. “Okay, fair enough.”

“And, uh,” he began slowly, breaking away from her gaze. “thanks for the talk. I really needed that, I think.”

Her smile grew, the cold causing her cheeks to be painted pink. “Any time. If you need an emotional booty call, you know how to reach me.” She said it with a wink and a click of her teeth.

Shikamaru scoffed as he looked at her, a smile breaking across his mouth. It’d been a while since he actually smiled given the dreary weekend he had. His face had forgotten what it was like to use those specific muscles, but it happened before he could even think about it. He nodded at her and bit the inside of his lip, that smile still on his face. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

Temari began backing away slowly, her eyes still fixed on him. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you later.”

She left him with one last smile before completely turning to face the direction she was headed in. He stood there and watched as she walked down the street, looking over her shoulder every so often. When he could barely make out her figure turning into a building, knowing that she was able to get back safely in the dark, he began his trek back to campus.

He looked up at the sky and watched the stars barely twinkle in the night, competing against the light pollution. He thought about Temari’s words again, finding some truth in them. Maybe he was looking in the wrong place for his lost potential. The mention of the greatness in him was so much like Asuma’s belief in him; it sparked something in his mind. He would have to do better now, with this fresh perspective given to him. _A C+ GPA doesn’t condemn you to a C+ life_. It was the wakeup call that he needed, he thought, a swift kick in the ass to remind him that he could still choose a path that was malleable. He could make something of the future if he did something now.

Shikamaru pulled a cigarette out from his back pocket and looked at the lighter for a moment before igniting the orange end.

“I’m going to try harder for you, Asuma,” he mumbled with the cigarettes between his lips. “I’m going to keep my promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wanted to stay with the canon and have Hidan/Kakuzu ultimately be the ones who killed Asuma. Shikamaru concludes that the real reason why he was murdered is because he's Hiruzen's son, but that was honestly just the best way for me to have him be killed that was nodding to the canon but realistic in my own story. 
> 
> I really hope that I did a good enough job trying to make sure everyone was in character enough. I realize that Shikamaru fully takes on responsibility _after_ Asuma's death in the canon, but realistically speaking, if you're seeing someone who's like a dad to you get murdered in front of you, that's going to stick with you for a while. Idk. Their relationship in my story is supposed to be that Shikamaru is this kid with great potential but he's a slacker; no one's really encouraged him to do anything about his potential until Asuma. So it's this foreign thing to him and when he loses Asuma, he doesn't know what to do anymore. He's also having a lot of conflict because he's afraid he won't live up to Asuma's idea of him and he thinks that the things he did during the night of Asuma's death were what ultimately caused it. 
> 
> So, he tries avoiding the topic partially because he doesn't want to think about it, but also because there's no one willing to talk to him about it. So it's this struggle of wanting to talk about it, but also not wanting to if that makes sense. He alluded to that in the chapter when he tells Temari that Ino and Chouji don't talk about it anymore with him, so it just adds to this feeling of being lost. 
> 
> I hope the timing of Shikamaru lamenting the past and then trying to make a change at the end isn't too forced; I had intended for their conversation to read as the "revelation" Shikamaru was trying to find because no one has given him the type of validation he needed during his grieving process. There is also a lot of repetition, which I utilized in order to convey the denial that Shikamaru is going through. 
> 
> Also, I hope you guys paid very close attention to Shikamaru's interactions with Temari. I tried to make them obvious,but there are a few things that are definitely going to bite him in the ass in the upcoming chapters. The trope that Shikamaru is a dumb genius has always been my favorite, so i've been very keen on emulating that in my own story. 
> 
> Finally, I really hope that this chapter was of the same quality as the previous ones and that you all still enjoyed it; I set really high expectations for myself with this one because it really is very pivotal and I don't think I met them very well. 3/4 of this chapter was written late at night, though, because that was the only free time I had during the week. (But, that's me making excuses for myself lol)
> 
> That's all I got. Let me know your thoughts. x


	7. bottle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Words carry with them a lot of weight, Shikamaru notes, as he does a little bit of thinking out loud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to all the new kudos and comments! this chapter is sort of like a filler, since i didn't have very many ideas for this chapter besides the two big things that happen lol. i think of it as the weird period where shikamaru is still trying to adjust to realizing what he should be doing and actually doing it. we also get a little more insight to his relationship with kurenai and the way he processes his relationship with mirai. all in all, i hope it's not too boring. the next chapter is the one i've been waiting to write the most, so bear with me through this one! 
> 
>  
> 
> enjoy-

“Be very careful,” Kurenai warned, halfway out the door. “She’s gotten very fast.”

He looked from her to Mirai who was held upright by the circular walker she was put into. With one hand, she smashed some toys into the plastic table and with the other, sent baby crackers flying around her. He raised an eyebrow and gave Kurenai a disbelieving look.

“You say that as if she _actually_ knows how to walk,” Shikamaru responded incredulously. When he learned that Mirai could walk, he realized it was only with the aid of her baby walker. He didn’t believe there would be much distance she could cover while restrained in the plastic contraption.

Kurenai hummed and shrugged her shoulders. “Just wait until you take her out of that thing.”

As if on cue, Mirai let out a squeal to the little secret she and her mother shared, looking up at him with big red eyes. He narrowed his own eyes and pursed his lips before giving one last look to Kurenai.

“I think I’ll manage.”

Kurenai smiled and adjusted the purse at her shoulder. “I’m holding you to it. Anyways, I’ll be back around seven. Do you want to stay for dinner?”

He thought about the essay he had to write for Professor Hatake’s class, due on Friday, which was in fact tomorrow. “Yeah, I’d love to stay for dinner.” 

“Great! Have fun you two.” And with that, he was left alone with his fears that manifested themselves into 20-pounds of half-toothless smiles. Mirai’s eyes were so bright and filled with doubtless hope, it stirred anxiety in the pit of his belly.

Shikamaru shook his head as a way to swat the thoughts away like flies, instead focusing on other things. Mirai was not meant to be taken as an omen of his failures; she was supposed to be a reminder to keep moving forward. He couldn’t root himself in what he thought was going wrong. He thought about Temari’s words and the way she revealed to him that he was trying too hard to live in the future. He hadn’t thought about it that way before and it shed some valuable light onto his situation. He was attempting to correct his habit of aimlessly jumping forward by staying steady in the now and figuring out his next steps, even though he had no idea of where to even begin.

He squatted down in front of Mirai so that they were at eye-level. She paused crashing plastic into plastic to meet him with a look as serious as her baby face could muster before smiling. He smiled back at her, touching a fingertip to her nose, eliciting a happy gurgle.

“Okay, Mirai,” Shikamaru said as he sat down completely, crossing his legs. “Let’s figure out what to do with my life so I don’t royally screw shi— _stuff_ up for you." 

Mirai blinked and he took it as a sign that she was prepared to listen to whatever he had to say. He had read somewhere earlier in the week that babies Mirai’s age needed to be spoken to as often as possible in order to stimulate brain development. It was a good way to help her learn conversation and prepare her for whenever she would finally say her first words. He knew he couldn’t fuck it up, no matter which way he went about it. He thought of it as a mutually beneficial task; on one end, he was helping build Mirai’s cognitive functioning while trying to figure out what to do with his life. He found that talking about some things out loud helped him come to better conclusions, something like proof reading an essay aloud in order to catch grammatical errors. He scolded himself for not thinking of the task any sooner; for such a genius, it seemed like the simplest things often went over his head.

“So, I guess the first step would be to declare my major,” he thought aloud, looking up at the ceiling. “Technically, I _should_ be a political science major but what can I do with that?”

Mirai blew a raspberry in response, focused intently on the multicolored rings in front of her. She lifted the red one and bit down onto it, the snarl all dribble and a few small teeth. 

“Yeah, that’s what I think too,” Shikamaru said. He leaned back onto his palms and chewed the inside of his lip. “Unless I get a desk job, which does no good for either of us.” 

“Naruto’s a poli-sci major, but he wants to go to law school,” he continued. “I don’t know if I have the motivation to go to law school, though.”

Mirai squealed, a sound that turned straight into babyish giggles. Shikamaru exaggerated a frown which only prompted her to laugh some more. “You don’t think I could get through law school?”

She gnawed on the plastic rings again, staring at him with concrete conviction. “You’re right, we both know I don’t have it in me to go to law school. That’s too troublesome.”

He uncrossed his legs and then stretched them forward, looking off to the side. He often applauded Naruto’s perseverance of working towards his goal to become Hokage. It was highly ambitious, and anybody that didn’t know Naruto personally would have thought it was completely out of his reach. Shikamaru certainly had thought so during the earlier years of their friendship. But, as he got to know the self-proclaimed future Orange Hokage of Konohagakure, Shikamaru had come to respect Naruto’s belief in himself. It was an inspiring quality and one that he silently wished he held for himself.

“Maybe I should start a whole new curriculum,” Shikamaru suggested, knowing all too well it would have been pointless. He only had a year and a half left; what could he possibly start with that short amount of time?

“I’ll be a philosophy and religion major like Neji,” he declared, half-jokingly. Mirai smiled at him and outstretched her arms, grabbing the air in front of her. “You think that’d cut it?”

Neji was something close to what everybody envisioned the perfect guy to be, something Shikamaru had learned the first time he met him. He was suave, smart, and awfully articulate, one of those things which Shikamaru could only say about himself. Neji not only seemed like he was well put together, he actually _was_. It was hard not to mention that he was rich too, despite the fact that he hailed from a branch of the Hyuuga family. He was essentially every girl’s dream, even being able to pull off waist long hair that often times looked better than theirs. But he was obsessed with destiny and figuring out what everyone’s purpose in life was overbearing; it was his only fault that could be easily picked out. It sometimes made conversations with Neji hard, especially during nights they were drowning themselves in alcohol.

“Never mind,” Shikamaru said, leaning forward to lift Mirai out of her walker. “I think that’s too much deep thinking I couldn’t do.” 

He settled back onto the ground with Mirai on his lap, handing her toys from the tray. He moved to reach for the container of little baby crackers that she loved. Shikamaru flipped the top off and poured some out onto a tissue he placed in front of her. Mirai made a noise of approval and grabbed a fistful.

Shikamaru moved to leaning back onto the palms of his hands, watching as Mirai alternated between eating crackers and pressing buttons on her play phone. “I could become a business man. I’d probably be able to finish the business admin curriculum with a year and a half left. You think that’d be a good idea?”

Mirai looked up at the sound of his voice, staring at him for a moment before holding her small palm out. She was offering him a handful of crackers, which turned out to be only _three_ crackers. He was impressed she was learning how to interact with people so quickly, something he self-righteously attributed to the fact that he was talking to her. He took the crackers between his two fingers and ate them, barely tasting the honey they were coated in. He supposed Mirai thought they were the best things ever though, even if they didn’t taste like anything to him. 

“Thank you,” he told her, holding a hand out again to let her continue feeding him. “But, really, I feel like that business stuff should be easy enough.”

He thought of Hinata, the lone international business major of their friend group. Konohagakure was riddled with business majors so it was always a surprise to Shikamaru that he hadn’t befriended any more. Though, as the Hyuuga Heiress of the main house, it was expected of Hinata to one day take over the family company. Shikamaru tried to stay out of other families’ business finding that it wasn’t his place to know what went on in other peoples’ lives, but Naruto had an outrageously big mouth and a voice that carried. 

Hinata’s family situation had always been a tough one, as Naruto blatantly told them. She was smart and talented, but lacked any sort of assertiveness necessary to someday take on the position of CEO, something her father found disappointing. She did great in high school, from what Shikamaru could remember, excelling in her classes but always staying in the background. She was naturally a more reserved person, which was nothing Shikamaru could call a fault, but her father had expectations as big as the moon. She eventually figured out how to stay true to herself but also became the self-confident daughter her father always hoped for somewhere between dating Naruto and entering undergrad. She had spent her freshman year abroad, something that was unprecedented by any other student to give comparison for her great, academic feats. Naruto beamed with pride and approval whenever he talked about Hinata’s accomplishments, being her number one fan and constant source of encouragement.

“I don’t think I would make a good businessman, do you—hey, wait, where are you going?” Shikamaru exclaimed, noticing that Mirai had stood up and began waddling away from him. She looked over her shoulder, a wicked glint her eye as she sped up into a full baby-run away from him.

“Mirai, no, come back!” Shikamaru nearly shrieked, scrambling on his hands and knees in order to trail behind her. She was in the baby equivalent of a full sprint without any destination in mind, but Shikamaru was hyperaware of all the sharp corners in the house she could run into. Her giggles were mixed with Kurenai’s warning blaring in his head like sirens and he cursed himself for not believing her when she cautioned him.

There was a low end table beside the recliner that was near the entrance of the kitchen. It had razor sharp corners, a fact Shikamaru learned the hard way from his countless run-ins and forever bruised shins. The height of the table equaled Mirai’s, and at the rate she was travelling, Shikamaru knew that the injury would amount to more than a simple “uh oh.” 

He dived as fast as he could in front of Mirai, one arm circling around her and the other placing a hand onto the pointed corner of the table. She squealed with delight, viewing the entire situation as a game. She pressed a tiny fist to his cheek, an action he had grown to take as a sign of affection, and tried scrambling away from him. Shikamaru sighed and pushed off from the table to stand back up, carrying Mirai with one arm.

“That was not okay, dude,” he attempted to reprimand Mirai but it didn’t register to her. He also couldn’t muster enough negative emotion to be mad at a face like that, all innocuous eyes and amused smiles. 

Shikamaru could remember when Mirai was just a few months old, doing nothing but sleeping and crying. He didn’t take care of her as much then, leaving most of the work to Kurenai who actually had to give all of her attention to the newborn baby. He mostly made his appearances for support and company, unsure of how to interact with a baby while he was still grieving. The first time he held her, he was so stiff and the pounding of his heart was hard to forget. He was scared of dropping her, letting her down, so much so that he had held his breath the entire time she was cradled in his arms. He didn’t want to disturb something so precious and fragile, afraid of tainting the greatest joy Asuma would never get to know. 

It got easier the more times he visited and the bigger she got. He could remember feeling bad about the fact that Mirai wailed every time she saw him, unaccustomed to a stranger despite the fact that he knew her since the day she was born. After a while, she became familiar with his presence and the first time she smiled at him was both a moment of joy and great anxiety. It was at that time Shikamaru truly acknowledged the underlying dread that filled the pit of his stomach and clouded his mind. That was the time he began questioning whether or not he could fulfill his promise to Asuma, all of the doubt flooding his senses and overpowering any shred of rationality.

But, that was changing too, just as Mirai was. He was still afraid, still so panicked about the future and his lack of control over it. He wasn’t going to lie to himself and say that it didn’t still scare him, because it did. The difference between then and his current approach was marked by the fact that he was trying harder. He didn’t want to cower in the corner anymore and wait for things to sort themselves out; instead, he had a newfound determination to do something about the rut he got himself stuck into. The best he could do in the moment was to remind himself to keep going, a new sort of mantra to overpower the white noise of unease while he figured out where to go.

There was a suddenly different sort of noise that drew him from his thoughts, something very familiar in the background. Shikamaru turned and narrowed his eyes, listening intently while shifting Mirai’s weight on his arm. 

His eyes fell to the mantle. It was his ringing phone that made the noise, the white wire it was attached to trembling with each vibration. He made haste to grab it, seeing that it threatened to fall over the edge as it continued to ring. Shikamaru didn’t even bother to check who was calling, instead going straight to sliding his thumb to the right in order to answer the call. He figured it was Kurenai anyways, calling to check on him as she often did while she was out.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” a voice that definitely was not Kurenai’s answered. He pulled his phone away from his ear to make sure he knew who it was that called, despite the fact that he recognized without a doubt whose voice it was. _Temari._   

He was surprised that she called him but didn’t have any time to think about why she could have been calling when he heard that she had continued speaking. He pressed the phone back to his ear and said, “Sorry, what?”

“I texted you a few times,” Temari repeated. “You didn’t respond and I was wondering if you forgot about our appointment? I need some help with this bullshit essay that’s due tomorrow.” 

Shikamaru looked at his phone and noticed that he did have fifteen unread texts, two of which were from Temari over an hour ago. He quickly looked at his calendar, and saw the little reminder that he had indeed missed their appointment. “Shi—shoot,” he caught himself, “I did, yeah. Sorry about that.”

“No problem,” Temari responded. “I can meet you somewhere right now if you’re free?” 

“Ah, I’m actually off campus right now,” he informed her, readjusting Mirai. She grabbed his earlobe, fingers mushing the skin and earring together. He tried moving his head away but she continued reaching, undoubtedly entertained. 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah, I’m uh—” he paused to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat. He barely ever spoke of his time babysitting Mirai to anybody, the most was sending occasional snapchats to Ino and Chouji. He reminded himself of his new plans to honor his promise to Asuma, forcing himself to overcome his fear of talking about Mirai. “I’m babysitting Mirai.”

His voice was small and there was a pause after he said it, waiting for Temari’s words that would be laced with something like pity. It was the way his parents often responded to him whenever they called while he was with Mirai, their voices becoming hushed and dancing around the topic. He was always met with some sort of cautious tone, everybody who knew him knowing that it was a hard point of conversation for him to engage in.

Instead, Temari said, “Oh fun. How’s that going?”

There was no shift in her voice, nothing suggesting that awkwardness he was used to whenever he brought up Mirai. There was something genuine in her question, asked out of what he perceived was actual curiosity as opposed to courtesy. It was nice though, to have a response that wasn’t underpinned by some avoidance of the topic by the other person for his sake. He thought it was a start to fully accepting what he was meant to do, taking it as a sign that he was slowly making his way to getting over the situation.

“Well, I just found out she knows how to run,” Shikamaru said as he began to pace the room, bouncing Mirai as he did so and gaining giggles of approval. “So, it’s going.”

Temari chuckled. “Is that her I hear in the background?”

“It is, yeah.” Mirai had started babbling in response to him talking, trying again to grab at the stud in his ear. “I’ve been talking to her so I think she’s starting to pick up the concept of conversation.”

“That’s good,” Temari hummed. “Babies need that. Can I see a picture of her?”

Shikamaru was taken aback by her request, furrowing his brow as Mirai’s baby fist closed on his ear. “Yeah, sure. Give me a sec.” 

He opened up Snapchat as he struggled against Mirai tugging on his ear, doubletapping the screen in order for it to change to the front-facing camera. He extended his arm and shifted Mirai as a way to get her attention to look at the phone, realizing in that moment how tired his arm was. The picture he ended up with was in no way flattering; he captured the exact moment his face scrunched up in response to a forceful tug of his ear, the only redeeming quality was Mirai’s wide grin. His finger hovered over the little ‘x’ in the corner for a moment until he moved it to the arrow at the bottom to save the picture. He figured it would be something nice to show Kurenai later, and to Mirai when she was older. 

Shikamaru sent the image to her before he could convince himself to send a better one, returning to place the phone back to his ear. “Just sent it.”

Temari made a noise of acknowledgement and he could hear tapping in the background in between the static. Her laugh rang through the line, the hearty and full laugh that he had only ever heard from her. He tried to stop the flush that threatened to rise to his face, fiercely regretting the picture. He usually never sent front-facing pictures but he wrote it off as a start of collecting memories for Mirai to look back on. That’s what it was; if Asuma wasn’t there to take pictures with his daughter, the second best would be him taking the pictures Asuma couldn’t. 

“Cute,” Temari said, her voice breathy from laughter. “She’s very cute.”

Shikamaru sat down onto the couch, letting Mirai roll off to sit beside him. “Yeah, I keep telling Kurenai to sign her up to be the next Gerber baby or whatever before she gets too big.”

“Has she?” Temari asked, humoring him. 

“Unfortunately not.” Mirai tried climbing onto his lap, one fist smacking him in the face while the other grabbed the collar of his shirt. He realized there would be no feasible way to talk on the phone and entertain Mirai at the same time, resolving to putting Temari on speaker.

“I’m putting you on speaker,” he announced, laying his phone onto the glass table in front of him. “Don’t say anything bad.” 

“I’m making no promises,” Temari joked. He rolled his eyes, reaching over the arm rest to grab a few of her toys. His biggest fear was swearing in front of Mirai and having that be her first word. There were few things he was absolutely sure of in his life, one of them being the fact that Kurenai would kick his ass if Mirai’s first word ended up being _fuck._

“Who does she look like more?” Temari asked suddenly, the unmistakable sound of keyboard clicks in the background. Shikamaru looked at his phone and then to Mirai who was preoccupied with her colorful rings again. Nobody had ever asked him that and he had never given it any thought. Obviously he avoided thinking of things like that; finding any other reminder of Asuma would have been too much for him to bear. He wondered why she even brought it up. Had she already forgotten what Mirai and her family meant to him? The amount of guilt and pain that were the roots of his actions? Did she forget about the difficulty he had with mentioning the blood oath he made? There was no way, he thought. Temari wasn’t stupid. 

Shikamaru looked at Mirai and thought about it for the first time, tried figuring out where her resemblances were most prominent. It was obvious she inherited Kurenai’s infamous red eyes, the haunting maroon that swayed anybody with just one look. Her hair was also black like her mother’s, growing in all sorts of direction. He figured she would have unruly hair like Kurenai’s someday. Everything else was Asuma’s, though, he realized— she had his pointed chin, and when she wasn’t smiling, her resting face was the spitting image of his. It was a bittersweet observation, feeling as if he was looking at Asuma again for the briefest of moments.

It made him sad, but it just confirmed his need to keep his word. Mirai was her father’s daughter in looks, and he intended to help Kurenai to raise her to be like him in character as well.

“She looks like him,” he said quietly, not yet ready to say his name out loud so casually. That was something he would need a little more time to work towards. Temari hummed again and he was sure this time she would say something meant to be sympathetic. 

“See that’s interesting to me,” she said as he furrowed his brow. “Usually, girls look a lot like their moms.”

“Yeah?” He asked, wondering what sort of validity there was behind that statement. He thought of Ino and her uncanny resemblance to her father, down to the ponytail the Yamanaka were known for.

“Yeah,” Temari insisted. “I look like my mom. Gaara and Kankuro look like our dad.”

Shikamaru laughed, gaining a look of curiosity from Mirai. “I think you’re grossly overgeneralizing your experiences to everyone else.”

“Okay,” Temari challenged. “Who do _you_ look like then?”

“I look like my dad,” he conceded.

“See?”

He couldn’t help the smile that broke across his face by how pleased she sounded with herself, so sure and convinced of her rationale. Maybe someday he would be able to be as sure as Temari was with trivial things, having such conviction in his actions and in himself. It was admirable. 

“We’re still just two people,” Shikamaru said. “We don’t account for the entire population.” 

Temari scoffed, and he could imagine that she was rolling her eyes by the sound alone. “Okay, mister know-it-all.”

“I do know it all, yes,” he responded without missing a beat, letting Mirai close her fist around his forefinger.

“Do you now?”

Mirai giggled as he pinched her cheek, her hands reaching out to do the same to him. She grabbed his face with a little too much force and squeezed, resulting in his voice being slightly muffled. “I like to think so, yeah. How do you think I get through school?”

“I just thought it was dumb luck,” Temari confessed jokingly.

“It’s a little bit of that too,” he said.

She laughed which made Mirai smile, recognizing the sounds of joy. He hoped in that moment that Mirai would know happiness more often than sadness; even before her life began, there was tragedy and he hoped that she would stay this happy and carefree for a long while. He knew she would have to learn the truth eventually, but by then he hoped she was stronger than he was to take such an emotionally detrimental blow like that. Part of his promise was to make sure she’d grow up safe, and that also meant ensuring she would be happy. It would be a constant overseeing that he’d have to do the rest of his life, but as long as she and Kurenai were both happy and safe, he didn’t care at all.

“Wow, okay,” Temari loudly said all of a sudden. “Kankuro what the fu— _mmm_. What the _heck_ is this?” Shikamaru could hear a muffled voice in the background yell a response, the sounds of bags being rustled present as well. He appreciated the fact that she didn’t say anything horribly profane in front of Mirai.

“When I said take the trash out, I meant into the garbage bin outside. Not leave it in the kitchen,” she responded through gritted teeth. There was another yell that prompted her to laugh sarcastically. “I don’t care if Gaara said he was going to do it because if neither of you two do it, that means you’re both bums who don’t know how to take the trash out.”  

Shikamaru and Mirai curiously listened to the insulted yelling that slowly faded until the sound of a door being closed replaced it. 

“No matter how old my brothers get, they always need their big sister to tell them what to do,” Temari complained, which he assumed was directed back to him and their conversation.

“Sounds pretty troublesome,” he told her, not entirely sure of how to respond.

She scoffed, the rustling of what he assumed were sheets in the background almost masking the sound. “Something like that. You have any siblings?”

“Yes and no,” he answered slowly.

Shikamaru was an only child, as was most of his friends were. There were times he _was_ curious as to what it would have been like to have a sibling, somebody he shared a mother and father in addition to sharing toys with, but he figured he had gathered just as much by having Ino and Chouji around his entire life. They had always been the closest things to a brother and sister to him, down to shared life experiences and playground scars they’d take to their graves. The amount of embarrassing secrets they all knew about each other were enough to warrant the label of “siblings,” he thought, and the number of quarrels they had reminded him of the sibling relationships he saw on TV. He had even thought at some point in his childhood that if all of their parents died through some freak accident, they would’ve became a ragtag family with Asuma as their father.

There was some truth in the morbid childhood thought he held; he did end up losing a parent, just not the way he had imagined it would have happened. Funny how the world made some passing thoughts reality. 

“What do you mean?” Temari asked, the tone of her voice suggesting interest. 

“Well, technically, I’m an only child,” he explained. “But, I’ve known my two best friends since we were babies, so they’re kind of like my siblings.” 

He looked at Mirai who was focused intently on the baby doll in front of her, lips pursed as she twisted the baby’s arm. Chouji always made a joke of being the oldest out of the three, having been born in May while Ino took the brunt of teasing by being born just a day after Shikamaru. He considered them siblings, but there was nothing learned from each other or any knowledge taught, unlike what a regular sibling relationship would have been like. They had learned everything together, all three of them acting like the eldest sibling. He knew that he would be teaching Mirai things as she grew up, but it had never occurred to him that he would be something like an older brother to her. The epiphany was another indication to him that everything that crossed his mind was overthought; the simplest of ideas going unnoticed.

“And I guess Mirai counts too,” he added.

“I thought you said you considered yourself her dad?” Temari asked, lightheartedly. There was a cautious lilt to her voice, a sort of wariness that suggested she knew she was walking on thin ice by bringing up that conversation. He was more startled she even remembered his offhand and poorly made joke that wasn’t meant to be a joke than he was bothered. What was she trying to accomplish by bringing up their talk so candidly? He didn’t think it was meant to be audacious as her other challenges had been in the past, but other than that, he didn’t know what to name the intention behind it.

“Yeah, I take that back,” he finally said, aiming not to sour their otherwise decent conversation. “That was a weird thing to say. I’d much rather consider myself her older brother.”

Temari’s laugh was a mixture of amused and relieved. “That’s very fair. Hopefully she won’t give you as much trouble as my brothers do.” 

“Probably not,” he said. “Being a lot older makes me a little more tolerant, I think. Besides, regardless of how old she is, I’ll always be an old fart in comparison to her so I’d probably be the troublesome one.”

The thought sent him reeling as soon as it registered in his head. He could barely think about Mirai’s second birthday that was fast approaching. Thinking about their differences in age freaked him out and he did his best to stomp out any anxious thoughts about what life would be like when she was his age. He would _not_ focus on that when Mirai was here, still a baby. Everything would turn out fine as long as he stayed focused, he reminded himself.

“That’s true,” Temari acknowledged. “Being just a few years apart makes them more annoying, I feel like.”

“How many years are you guys apart?” Shikamaru asked. 

“Kankuro and I are about a year apart, and baby Gaara is two years younger than I am,” she said. He figured the numbers in his head, guessing that Gaara was twenty-one just as he was but that didn’t make sense. If Temari was two years older, that would have made her twenty-three and supposed to be just out of undergrad. Unless she had been held back during elementary school, which didn’t seem likely.

“So you’re twenty-three?”

“Bingo,” Temari confirmed. “I took a gap year after high school.” She said it as if she had read his wondering mind.

That made much more sense and fell in line with his understanding of her; it seemed like a Temari thing to do. “That’s cool. What’d you do?” 

He imagined that she had travelled somewhere, as what most people who took gap years did from what he saw on Instagram. It’s what he would have done if he had the opportunity to take a gap year; travel somewhere with open fields as far as the eye could see and no buildings to obscure his view of the sky.

“Not as cool as you think,” she said. “I mostly worked; did some odd jobs to save up for school. You guys got it good here with that free tuition stuff. Being Rasa’s daughter wasn’t enough for free school, I guess.”

Shikamaru made a noise of agreement. It was thanks to Lord Second Tobirama’s ingenious tax plans that allowed for many things like secondary education and healthcare to be free for all citizens of Konohagakure. Such a plan was difficult to recreate by the other states, which was the primary reason as to why theirs was regarded as the most successful of the five. It was again no wonder that Temari and her brothers were essentially forced to transfer, given that Sunagakure was only getting worse in all aspects. 

“Bottle.”

The word shocked Shikamaru as he looked at his phone. “What?” 

“I didn’t say that,” Temari responded, equally shocked. He slowly turned his head to Mirai who looked at him with great expectations in her eyes.

“Dude,” he breathed with wide eyes. “I think she just said her first word.”

“Yeah, I heard.”

“Do I tell Kurenai?” He asked hysterically, more to himself than anything else. 

He was beginning to panic as he tried to rationalize what the best course of action was in the situation. If he told Kurenai, the worst that would happen was that she would be so sad she wasn’t there to witness the first word of her child. She would probably think she wasn’t doing a good job as a mother by being away from her baby so often. She would probably cry, and Shikamaru was _not_ good with people who cried. He would probably start crying too if she even mentioned Asuma during her breakdown, and especially so if she talked about how much she missed him.  

On the other hand, if he _didn’t_ tell her, she could live blissfully unaware that it had happened until she heard what she perceived would be Mirai’s first word. It seemed like the better option, but he felt guilty for not saying anything. He was obligated to tell Kurenai these things, wasn’t he? But he felt like he would have been robbing her of a special moment if he did tell her. He didn’t know what to do.

“I think you should get Mirai her bottle since that’s what she asked for,” Temari said as a matter-of-fact. Shikamaru scowled. That was not helpful.

“This is serious,” he said.

“So is feeding the baby,” Temari pointed out. He grumbled as he lifted Mirai and grabbed his phone in the same move, putting the device in his back pocket. 

“Seriously, do you think should I tell her?” He asked again, going over his options once more. 

Shikamaru balanced Mirai on his lifted leg as he threw open the fridge and reached for the pre-made bottle of formula. He turned the handle at the sink and let the hot water run over the cold bottle as he looked at Mirai who had her hands clasped together, pleased. 

“I read somewhere one time that people who work at baby daycares don’t tell parents if their kid said their first word while they were away,” Temari told him. “Something about not wanting to ruin the magic for parents, especially first time parents.” 

He sighed a breath of relief. It was good to hear confirmation that his preferred option would really be the better one. Mirai eagerly took the bottle from him with both hands when he handed it to her, resting the bottom of it against his shoulder. 

“Okay, that’s good to know,” he said. “I didn’t want to tell her.” 

“Tell who what?” Kurenai’s voice carried from the front door to the kitchen and Shikamaru felt his face pale. Mirai made a noise at the sound of her mother’s voice, strategically holding the bottle with one hand while she outreached the other towards Kurenai who approached the two of them.  
  
“Tell _you_ that I’m—” he dragged out the word as he tried to think of some realistic bullshit to tell her. “I’m finally declaring my major.”

“Oh, are you now?” Temari asked, obviously entertained. He tried not to frown as he handed Mirai over to Kurenai. She shot him a perplexed look that included a raised eyebrow and a smile that was preparing itself to ask many questions.

“Yeah, I gotta go,” he told her hastily. “If you still need help with the essay though, I can call you later.”

“It’s okay,” Temari told him. “I figured it out. But, I think you’re gonna have to tell me about this major declaration business.”

“Ha,” Shikamaru uttered flatly. “I’ll think about it. Bye.”

Temari laughed, “Okay, bye.”

He ended the call as he averted Kurenai’s intense gaze that saw right through him. He hoped he wasn’t blushing, knowing all too well that would have suggested the wrong things.

“Who was that?” Kurenai asked with an inquisitive lilt, giving him a sly grin. She walked around him to the high chair that was placed in front of the granite counter, sliding Mirai right into it.

“Just uh,” he stumbled over his words, trying to find the best way to describe Temari. He thought about Temari’s sincerity that had grown over the course of the weeks he had known her, something he still wasn’t sure that he uncovered himself or if she slowly revealed to him. He had come to enjoy their talks and even began to welcome her company, finding that she was much more interesting than he initially believed. But there was still the callousness and brazen behavior that stumped him, despite the fact that he was getting used to it. He was still trying to figure her out. “She’s a friend.”

“Oh,” Kurenai elongated the sound with raised eyebrows. She didn’t believe him, he could tell.

“Do you want me to help with anything?” Shikamaru changed the subject, watching as Kurenai pulled items from the fridge. He could also tell she noticed that he had no desire to talk about Temari by the face she made. There was a foreboding feeling in his gut that the topic would make a reappearance very soon.

“If you could set the table, that’d be nice,” Kurenai instructed, nodding to the cabinet in the corner of the kitchen. “We’re eating leftovers, so it won’t take too long. Hope you don’t mind.”

“I have no room to complain about anything you’re feeding me since you’re feeding me, _period_ ,” he told her as he reached up to grab two plates. Kurenai’s laugh followed him out of the kitchen and into the dining room that had a small table meant for four. He wondered how many times she and Asuma got to have dinner together at the table, how long they got to live together in the house before he was taken away from her. His eyes dropped from the table to the floor as he tried not to think about it.

“Do you think you could move Mirai out there too?” Kurenai called out over the sound of food sizzling in a pan.  

“Yeah,” he answered as he headed back to the kitchen. Mirai struggled to keep her eyes open as she continued drinking from her bottle, staring at the space in front of her. She barely noticed that he lifted her and the high chair together, slowly moving from the kitchen to the dining room. He pushed one of the chairs away with his foot and set Mirai down there, brushing the back of his finger against her cheek. He smiled at her when she looked up at him in response.

Moments later, Kurenai appeared with a big plate of whatever she had made the night before. It smelled amazing and he was suddenly very grateful for a home cooked meal.

She slid into her seat after setting the plate down onto the table and he waited for her to serve herself before doing so himself. They started to eat in silence but he knew that Kurenai was giving him a grace period before unloading all of her questions.

“So,” she began between bites. “What’s her name?" 

Shikamaru shoveled food into his mouth in order to grant him a few more moments of avoiding the question but Kurenai’s eyes bored right into him. He swallowed. “Temari. I’m her tutor.”

“Temari,” Kurenai repeated slowly, ignoring the last bit of his response. “She sounds nice.”

“I’m her tutor,” Shikamaru said again, a little more firmly. Kurenai gave him a ‘mhmm’ and continued eating.

The moment reminded him of Monday, just after he parted ways with Temari on his way back to campus. Shikamaru had been checking the notifications he collected during his time at the cemetery and the diner. One snapchat had been from Naruto, a video whose mere recollection made the blood rush to his face. Shikamaru still couldn’t figure out where Naruto was when he had taken the video. It showed him and Temari standing at the crossroads as Naruto zoomed in and out to him enunciating “Are-you-guys-fuck-ing.” His response was one of the rare occasions he ever did reply with a front-facing picture; it was a stern face with a hard captioned “no.” 

“How long have you known her?” Kurenai asked. He applauded her subtly at not flat out asking if they were dating. He knew she was waiting for him to say it through the guided questions, though.

“Not too long,” he said truthfully. “She just transferred.” 

“From?” 

“Sunagakure,” Shikamaru told her.

“That’s interesting,” Kurenai commented. “What’s she studying?”

“Physics,” he answered. 

“Oh,” she exclaimed. “Is she as pretty as she is smart?”

“We’re not dating,” Shikamaru deadpanned, deciding to end Kurenai’s bold speculation right then and there. He also didn’t want to say out loud that Temari was pretty, even if it was true.

There was a slight sadness that washed over Kurenai’s face and he had a horrible feeling that he somehow had managed to upset her. Maybe he should have just entertained her with the idea that Temari was his girlfriend.

“You’re not trying to be like Asuma, are you?” She asked him quietly, referring to the secret relationship she had with him. She was smiling though her eyes were filled with wistful reminiscence. He didn’t know what to say. They avoided talking about Asuma, knowing that neither of them would be able to weather the storm that came with remembering him together. He thought maybe she was trying to move on too, and that was her way of doing it.

“We never meant for it to be a secret,” Kurenai continued after a moment of silence, outstretching her ring finger. The ring glimmered in the artificial light until she closed her hand to run her thumb over the gemstones. Shikamaru had been told it was a family heirloom that had previously belonged to his mother, Biwako.

“It only became a secret when you guys started asking,” she told him, her smile widening at recalling the memories. “Asuma thought it was hilarious that you guys were so adamant that we just went along with it.”

He remembered those times. Back in high school, Ino had always crashed straight into his locker with Chouji in tow to corroborate her sighting of Asuma with Kurenai during their lunch break. They all knew back then, he had realized, but there was always the shred of doubt that sat in the back of their minds whenever Asuma disputed their theory. 

“I’m sorry I brought it up,” Kurenai apologized after they sat in silence for a few moments. He didn’t know if she meant about Temari or Asuma, both halves of him contesting for either of them but it didn’t matter.

“Don’t be sorry,” he told her gently. “I don’t want you to feel bad about remembering him.” 

Shikamaru said it for himself just as much as he said it for Kurenai, voicing the reminder into existence. He’d have to make sure it’d become easier for the both of them to talk about Asuma, knowing that that was a good way to honor the memory of him. Nothing started out easy, he thought, there would always be difficulty. He couldn’t be selfish and only think that remembering Asuma was hard for him. He had to remember it was just as hard, if not harder, for Kurenai too. 

Kurenai closed her eyes and gave him a smile, nodding slowly. “It’s hard, but I’m trying.”

“I know,” he agreed quietly. “I know. I am too.”

They shared another moment in silence until Mirai’s snores caught their attention. Kurenai quietly urged him to leave despite his protests to help her with cleaning up. 

“You did enough with her,” she whispered, pointing to Mirai. “Go home and get some homework done.”

Shikamaru acquiesced with a smile. “I’ll try.”

He left her with a brief hug at the front door, throwing on his coat as he stood outside in front of his car. It was just a little over eight, he noticed, as he started his car. That left him with just under four hours to start the essay that Professor Hatake had assigned.

As Shikamaru departed Kurenai’s home, he watched the stars pass overhead. He wondered if Asuma would have thought the same thing Kurenai was thinking. Did it really seem like he and Temari were dating? He didn't think so. Their appearances together had been out of obligation and pure coincidence; the tutoring sessions, the diner talk, the crossroad, her phone call.

Coincidental, he thought. It was all coincidental.


	8. drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A seemingly chance phone call puts Shikamaru into a riptide of feelings that he tries to ignore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all the new comments, kudos, views, and subscriptions! :) 
> 
> ***Forewarning*** I very briefly mention sexual assault; it’s nothing explicit and I don’t outwardly reference it, it’s more like a passing thought but I thought I’d let people know just in case! 
> 
> So, there are three points in this fic that really inspired me to write it: the tequila scene (based off of a true story), the diner scene, and the entirety of this chapter. The rest of this fic was constructed around these three pivotal scenes and it makes me so happy to finally write this chapter because it leads up to the final turning point for Shikamaru. 
> 
> Anyways, to be brief, this chapter is supposed to be funny in light of the last few downers we had and I hope you guys enjoy it. There is some seriousness to it towards the end, though; remember when I said the things Shikamaru has done would come back to bite him in the ass? Well, here they all are. 
> 
> Ps. Fair warning: there is a lot more swearing in this chapter than there has been in the past. 
> 
> Enjoy-

“You sure you don’t want to come with us?” Naruto asked once more as he laced up his shoes. Shikamaru threw on his coat and shook his head, grabbing his keys from the corner of the table.

“I’m good tonight,” he told his friends. “I’m just gonna go on a walk and then probably go to bed." 

Ino made a noise of complaint as she smoothed some stray hairs against her head. “You’re getting boring, Shika.”

Shikamaru smiled but rolled his eyes as his friends all laughed in agreement. He wasn’t quite in the mood to go stand around in some noisy bars with five-dollar cover charges until two in the morning that Saturday night. He was moderately drunk though still very coherent and in control of himself; everything was just beginning to get a little hazy. He had decided to roam campus and smoke a couple of cigarettes, feeling as if the quietness of the outside world would be good for his spirit. It was what he thought he needed sometimes; a good, drunk walk by himself with no destination in mind.

“I’m sorry I’m always disappointing you, your highness,” Shikamaru responded to Ino with mocking courtesy as a few snickers filled the space around them. “I’ll try harder to appease you next time.”

“Just _fucking_ leave, Nara,” Ino shot back with a scowl, waving a hand at him dismissively. He bowed with outstretched arms, a smug look on his face.

“As her highness commands.” The laughter from their friends was deafening as Ino flipped him off with both hands, her already flushed face deepening in color. He smiled sweetly at her.

The joke had haunted Ino since middle school, who once proclaimed that she was Rapunzel reincarnated, making her royalty. She held this firm belief until Shikamaru had flatly told her that her blonde-haired ancestor never existed, only so in fairytales and was not even a princess in the original story. He also pointed out that Rapunzel was German, whereas they were, in fact, Japanese. He could vividly remember the two months that Ino refused to talk to him, only speaking to him vicariously through Chouji if she felt the need to say anything to him at all. It’d become one of the running jokes in their friend group, something that Ino hated, which only really made it funnier.

“Call me if you guys need anything,” Shikamaru said leaning halfway out the door as the laughter was dying down.

“Will do,” Chouji acknowledged. “Have a good night, grandpa.”

Shikamaru shook his head as he left the room and headed down the hall with his hands in his pockets, the ghost of a grin on his lips.

The cold air was gladly welcomed against his warm face, the silence of the night settling the buzzing that was left over in his ears from the loud music. The sky was grey, overcast with the shadows of a storm that had the potential to roll in. He silently hoped for the rain, knowing that the soft pitter patters against his window would be well needed to lull him to sleep after his buzz wore off. 

Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a cigarette and put it between his lips. He moved to grab the BIC lighter in his coat pocket on the left but hesitated for a moment before grabbing Asuma’s lighter from the pocket over his heart. The zippo was smooth against his fingers, even with the noticeable scratches from years of use. The sound it made when he flipped the top off and rolled flint wheel reminded him of Asuma. He sighed into the cigarette, feeling the smoke fill up his chest and watched the wisps of white dance in front of him.

Shikamaru had always been afraid to use Asuma’s lighter, only using it to light the cigarettes he left as his grave. It was a reminder, heavy and tangible, of what had happened that night. He had let the lighter sit at the edge of his desk for weeks after he cleaned out the blood that had dried in the little grooves. He let it sit there until he found enough courage to look at it again. It finally found a permanent home in the breast pocket of his coat, gently bouncing against his chest with every step he took. Reminding him.

He started using it more over the course of the past week, slowly forcing himself against the tide of habit. He hadn’t realized that he had put up so many buffers against the thought of Asuma—the lighter, avoiding _actually_ looking at Mirai, never mentioning him in conversation. In retrospect, he realized how counterproductive that was, for himself and for everybody around him. He had thought he was doing himself a favor, but he finally understood that that was how he got himself into the deep pit of anxiety and despair he was in.

It was still hard to acknowledge the wounds Asuma’s death left him with, but he was prepared at last to go through the process of letting them scab over. He knew it was what Asuma would have wanted, and the more he thought about it, he figured that Asuma would have believed in him to be able to move on peacefully. The thought of that was comforting to Shikamaru, Asuma’s posthumous belief in him and his abilities. He resolved to make sure that that would be one of the things of Asuma’s that lived on after his death.

Shikamaru took his time going around campus, taking the long ways past the academic buildings and weaving through the paths lined with decorative shrubs and withering flower bushes. Campus was a ghost town, which was unsurprisingly so given that it was somewhere between ten and twelve degrees with a windchill that sent gusts of air cutting through his face like a knife. There were lights in apartments that indicated life, some cracked windows letting the sound of laughter into the night air. It was a good,  nice sort of peaceful that Shikamaru felt he needed.

He had been wandering aimlessly for close to an hour when his phone began to vibrate violently in his pocket. He didn’t think it was any later than midnight when he had left his friends and they departed for the bars, an uncharacteristically late departure, but still too early to be belligerently drunk to beckon his help. When he checked his phone, however, he nearly felt his eyes fall out of his head from surprise. 

“Hello?” Shikamaru answered hesitantly. 

“Oh my _god_ ,” Temari groaned on the opposite end, lengthening each word. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you _forever_ , Kankuro. What the fuck!”

Shikamaru’s forehead creased as he looked off to the side, stuffing a hand into his pocket to escape the cold. “Temari, it’s Shikamaru.”

There was grumbling on her end, fading out as she pulled the phone away, probably to check that it was actually him that she called. The muttered curses came back into earshot as Temari slurred something incoherent.

“Are you drunk?” Shikamaru asked, pausing at the light post with an amused smile. After his many drunken nights and taking care of too-drunk friends, he could recognize intoxication just by the sound of someone’s voice. He didn’t think he had ever seen Temari drunk as he flipped through his memories. The closest thing he could barely count was the first night he saw her at Yamato’s party, but that hardly was what he would consider drunk. He remembered her bored look off to the side, cup in hand and an enticing, mysterious haze that gathered around her.

“Sooooo fucking drunk,” Temari responded. The sound of her heels clicking against the ground was faint in the background. “Drank too much too—” she paused to hiccup, “fucking fast.”

He couldn’t stop his smile from widening; it was a completely different side of Temari he had never thought he would ever see. He had to admit it was a little entertaining. He knew that Temari was callous in nature but hearing her be so unreserved in her tone of voice and manner of speech was funny. It was also interesting to learn that Temari cursed like a sailor when she was drunk.

“Are you okay?” Shikamaru asked her, remembering that she had intended to call her brother. He propped himself up against the light post, hunching his shoulders slightly to protect his ears from the cold. As funny as it was to get a drunk call from Temari (of _all_ people), he had hoped she wasn’t in any immediate danger. It was late at night after all, and she was an inebriated and attractive girl who he hoped wasn’t wandering alone outside. 

“I’m fine,” Temari said with great insistence as if he was arguing with her. “It’s just cold as shit and I want to go home.”

Shikamaru’s mind froze and the smile fell from his mouth. He hated being wrong. “Wait, are you outside?” 

“Yeah,” Temari answered defensively, as if he should have known. Which, to be fair, he _should_ have known given the lack of background noise. “No fucking shit.”

A sudden panic bubbled in the pit of his belly, the intoxicated fog that sat in his mind clearing as the realization sobered him up. “Temari,” he said firmly. “Are you alone? Where are you?”

“Just by some buildings,” she observed. He bit back a groan. That was _not_ helpful. He had hoped for a nice and calm night before going to bed, but he should’ve known better than to expect that his requests would be taken seriously by the universe.

Regardless of his complaints, though, Shikamaru was not going to let Temari wander around by herself out in the cold. It was dangerous and he didn’t think there could be anything more important in the moment than making sure Temari was safe.

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific,” he said. He had started walking again but didn’t know what direction to go in. Was she on campus? Off campus? He didn’t have any idea of where to go. He hoped she wasn’t off campus; he wasn’t sober enough to drive which would have made it extremely difficult to get to her.  

“By the library,” Temari sighed, her footsteps stopping in the background. That settled his beating heart that he didn’t even notice had begun to pound rapidly against his chest. 

“Oh, thank god,” he breathed as he started off towards the library. “Okay, just stay there. I’m coming to get you.”

“No, it’s okay,” Temari insisted. “I’m _fine._ ”

“Yeah, I definitely believe you,” he retorted sarcastically as he broke out into a light jog. “Stay on the phone with me. What’d you have to drink tonight?”

“Vodka, Malibu, tequila,” she counted off. He gagged at the mention of the last liquor she named. 

“Did you know I can’t drink tequila?” Shikamaru told her, hoping that if she stayed engaged enough on the phone she wouldn’t get up to walk anywhere else. 

Temari laughed the warm and full laugh he was so used to hearing. “What?” 

“Yeah, it’s a long story,” he said. She laughed again and something that wasn’t panic swelled in his belly.

“You have to tell me,” Temari said, her words blending together into one long request.

“Hey, I see you,” he said, ignoring her demand. He could spot her on the steps of the library, a lone figure almost sprawled out over the concrete. “Do you see me?”

Shikamaru watched as she lazily raised her head to look around, knowing that she probably wouldn’t have been able to find him. She surprised him though, as she often did, when she raised her free arm to point in his direction. “I see you.” 

He ended their call as he approached her, noticing then how much skin she had exposed to the brutal cold. She wore a cropped, sleeveless top in purplish-pink, the high collar doing nothing to make up for her bare arms and midriff that were beginning to be dangerously flushed. Thankfully, she was wearing leggings, but Shikamaru knew that they did little to keep the cold out.

When he stopped in front of her, she looked up at him with a sloppy smile and hooded eyes. Definitely drunk.

“You found me,” she said with an excited lilt. Her face was completely red, all the way to her ears which he suspected was not from the alcohol. 

“Hey,” he said, leaning down to grab her arm. Her skin was cold to the touch and barely warmed up to his hand. “Let’s go. You can’t stay out here.” 

Temari struggled to stand up on her own and had to lean against him when she eventually did manage to get up. He stiffened at how close she was to him, her head just tucked underneath his chin. Her flowery perfume wafted right into his face and something punched him right in the gut. 

“Where are we going?” She asked him. He shrugged off his coat as he tried to steady her swaying. He ignored the winds that slapped him right through his thin shirt, the cold shaking him to his core.

“I’ll take you somewhere until you can get a ride home,” Shikamaru offered. He held out his coat to her and she looked at it curiously. “Put this on so you don’t freeze to death.”

Temari did so wordlessly, slipping her arms into the coat. The gratitude was written clearly across her face.

Shikamaru had always thought the coat looked ridiculously large on him, but it looked especially more so on Temari; the damn thing nearly swallowed her whole. It was another hand-me-down from his father who insisted that the canvas bomber had been in the Nara family since the Great War. Even if his father could be believed, nobody would have known that the coat was that old it was still in such great condition. It was lined with flannel, having kept Shikamaru warm through many nights. The Nara emblem was sewn in red on the right sleeve for all to see the pride he had for his family, and his pockets were filled with more than enough receipts to have his mother cut his credit card in half. It was the coat that housed Asuma’s lighter in the breast pocket; two family heirlooms always together.

“Home?” Temari echoed, clutching the collar of the coat against her face. He noticed that her lips were painted a deep pink. “Kankuro is supposed to pick me up.”

Shikamaru gave her an unamused look as he shivered. “Where is he then?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know?” Temari grumbled, waving her phone around. “Didn’t pick up when I called.” 

“Let me see that,” Shikamaru requested, reaching for Temari’s phone. She reluctantly handed it over, still standing so close to him.

When he pressed his finger down on the home button, he was greeted by a picture of Temari and some friends, all bright smiles and rosy cheeks. But it suddenly disappeared as the phone died, the screen going completely black. “Wow, great.”

“Shit,” Temari cursed as he returned the dead phone, pressing down onto the home button excessively. Shikamaru rubbed his temple.

“Okay,” he started. “Uh, what’s Kankuro’s number? You can call him from my phone.”

Temari scoffed. “It’s 2018. Who the fuck remembers phone numbers anymore?” 

Shikamaru closed his eyes and covered them with his hand, trying not to get too frustrated. He released a breath very slowly. “You are being _such_ a drag right now.”

She responded with something incomprehensible, still swaying and bumping into his shoulder every other moment. His fingers massaged his temple as he tried to will the cold away and some compliance from Temari.

“Okay, you know what,” Shikamaru said, an idea coming to him suddenly. “Let’s go. We can’t stay out here.”

He reached for Temari’s hand that was engulfed in the sleeve of his coat, barely feeling her wrist through the material. She nearly tripped behind him as they started moving, too drunk to even stand up straight anymore.

“Where are we going?” She asked him again, her voice muffled as she spoke against his shoulder blades. He couldn’t see the lipstick stain, but he knew it was there. The subtle place where her lips had met his back through his thin shirt burned and left him aching. He ignored it and the feeling that continued to stir in his belly. 

“Well, I’m not sober enough to drive,” he told her, steadying her with both hands. “But, you can just stay in my room until tomorrow.”

Shikamaru had remembered that Chouji decided to stay with Karui that night, gracing him with a room all to himself. Unfortunately, he would not get to enjoy the quietness of the roommate-less room for the night but it was fine. Shikamaru silently cursed whatever friends Temari had that seemingly abandoned her. Whoever had decided to let her get this drunk and wander unsupervised deserved a royal ass kicking, he concluded. It wasn’t safe, and not to mention, he didn’t have any previous intentions to babysit a drunk person that night. But, there he was.

“We can just walk back to my place,” Temari suggested, raising her arm to point in some random direction. The side of her head was pressed against his shoulder and every word she spoke sent tiny vibrations through his body.

That was an option, though he was not quite in favor of it. They’d still have to go to his room to get another coat, and from what he could recall, Temari did not live as close to campus as she thought she did. “Where’s your apartment?"

“It’s by the coffee shop,” she told him. He frowned. “That cute ass boutique that’s too expensive, you know?”

“Okay, fuck it,” Shikamaru deadpanned. “We’re just going back to my room.”

“Your room?” Temari repeated, as if he hadn’t suggested it earlier. He didn’t say anything in response as he reached for her hand again, seeing if she could walk. From the look of her heeled shoes, what he perceived to be at least five inches, it didn’t seem like a possibility.

Temari lurched forward again and he managed to catch her before she fell straight into the concrete. He wondered begrudgingly what the odds were of Temari calling him instead of her brother as he held her up.

Her eyes were nearly closed as she tried to look at him, her lips parted slightly in an attempt to say something. There was no way they would have been able to walk across campus to his room with Temari in her current state, and he had hoped it wouldn’t have come to this.

Shikamaru sighed once more, this time to prepare himself instead of out of annoyance as he placed one arm behind Temari’s shoulders and hooked the other under her knees. Her head painfully flopped backwards as soon as he lifted her, forcing him to readjust slightly so that the side of her head rested against his shoulder. He could smell the alcohol on her breath and the sweet flowers in her hair. 

She wasn’t heavy, not that he had expected her to be, but he was still grateful knowing that his minimal lifting freshman year still showed.

Temari made no protests to being carried all the way back, and he couldn’t complain that he was warmer with her against his chest. It was carrying her that made him warmer, but also the fact that he was hyperaware of how dangerously close his hand was to her ass. He tried to swat the thoughts away the same way his mother would occasionally swat him and his father with the dusty broom for not helping around the house, but it just made him think of being dirty and he was lost.

(In the back of his mind, he recalled another drunken night in which Naruto had pointed a finger straight into his face. “You an ass or titties guy?” 

“Ass guy, definitely,” he had responded, slowly nodding as he thought about it—too drunk but very sure of his answer.

Neji had been sitting beside him and raised his cup, drawling in agreement, “ _Hell_ yeah.”)

Her legs were soft underneath his grip and he _really_ tried not to think about that. It’d been a while since he’d been that close with a girl, barely remembering the last time he’d even kissed a girl. That was a discouraging thought; he really had been out of the game for quite some time.

Shikamaru looked down at Temari again, realizing that she had passed out. It was a good thing she had called him when she did, otherwise she would have been stuck outside without anyone knowing where she was. He wondered if it was coincidence that it was him she called, wondering if she had called anybody else thinking that it was her brother Kankuro. Was it chance that he had been the only person to pick up her calls? He didn’t know.

His thoughts were interrupted when a few drops fell onto the tip of his nose, the water coming down sparsely and then all at once. Of all his requests, it was the least helpful one that was always granted. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

It was hard to pick up the pace carrying Temari, especially when the smooth brick sidewalk outside his dorm building was slick with the rain water. She stirred against his chest, eyes opening slightly and then snapping shut in response to the downpour. She groaned as she clasped her hand to his neck, trying to pull herself up. Shikamaru struggled against her for a moment as he climbed up the steps to his building, nearly falling backwards.

“Dude,” he warned. “We’re going inside, calm down.”

Thankfully, she stopped her wriggling for a moment as he tried to raise his hip to the scanner, wondering if that that was where his wallet was. After shimmying up against the wall, the door beeped and opened up to them as he let out a breath of relief. Shikamaru hooked his foot into the small gap of the door and kicked it open wide enough to slip right in. He was soaking wet. He couldn’t tell if it was his own shivering or Temari’s that ran through his body, but the meager warmth the building offered was better than being outside. 

Shikamaru looked up and down the hall way before ducking into the stairwell downstairs to his room. He could feel drops of water slide from his ponytail and run down his neck and back with each step. “This looks so sketch,” he whispered to himself as descended the steps, trying not to slip on his own soaked feet.

He realized how bad he looked just then, carrying a semi-conscious drunk girl all the way to his room. He had hoped nobody would see him, though if anybody did, he’d hope they wouldn’t think the worse of him. Shikamaru had no intention at all to do anything with Temari besides making sure that she would be okay. He wasn’t that type of person and he never would be; he thought that those who took advantage of others were the _worst_ kind of sick fucks that deserved to rot in hell forever. 

They finally made it to his room just as Shikamaru’s arms were about to give out. He clearly was not as strong as he thought he was. He leaned up against the door in order to balance himself as he carefully reached for the doorknob, praying that he or Chouji had left their room unlocked. For once, somebody was listening (he pretended it was Asuma) as the door gradually opened in front of him.

Shikamaru crinkled his nose as he entered; did it always smell _that_ bad? Had it also always been _that_ messy? He was suddenly feeling very self-conscious at the state of his room. There were clothes thrown about, both his own and Chouji’s, though his side of the room was slightly cleaner. It only happened to be that way due to the fact that Shikamaru owned two textbooks in total whereas Chouji boasted a collection of biology books showcased across his desk.

He shook his head. It didn’t matter if his room was a mess given Temari’s current state. She probably wouldn’t care nor would she even remember. What was he worrying about? 

Shikamaru gently set Temari down onto the futon in the center of the room then moved to grab the few shirts he had tossed there earlier in the day and threw them into his closet. She sat up and wiggled out of his soaked coat, absentmindedly laying it beside her. She was unusually quiet. He wondered what had brought up her sudden calm as he turned the dial on the heater. It came to life with a soft purr, the only noise between them.

He gave her a quick glance over before reaching to pull open a drawer, watching as she sat forward to bury her face into her hands. He grabbed two sweatshirts and carefully approached her. 

“Are you gonna throw up?” Shikamaru asked warily. She didn’t say anything as she shook her head but he wasn’t convinced. He retrieved his trashcan from beside the head of his bed and nudged it towards Temari’s feet. 

“Here,” he said, gently handing her one of the sweatshirts. It was Konohagakure red with KSU monogrammed in gold across the chest, still soft on the inside and very warm. “You can wear this.”

Temari looked up at the sound of his voice and he felt his heart skip a beat.

He’d seen his fair share of sloppy drunk girls during the past few years of undergrad. Most of the time it was Ino and Sakura who got horribly drunk. He knew that some girls got to a point where they looked like they had gone through hell and back, whether it was because they were crying or tears from laughter that rolled down their face. Getting blackout drunk and unaware of how bad they truly looked in the light with the smeared mascara and smudged lipstick, ruined hair and wrinkled clothes; he’d seen it all.

But, there was still something so pristine about Temari’s sloppy drunk. Her lipstick fell out of line just at the corner of her mouth from when she had pressed her slurred questions into his spine and her eyeliner started to smudge. Her eyes were glazed over but so undeniably warm as she looked up at him, a certain sparkle caught in the emerald that he swore he’d seen before but couldn’t name. In the soft light, she glowed and he was star struck.

He was acting as if he had never thought Temari was attractive. He had always known she was. He’d just try not to notice. He remembered the first night he had seen her, all fishnets and mini skirt, but since then, he just didn’t acknowledge it. It was for the sake of keeping their relationship professional, especially during the period of her extreme brazen behavior that was so off-putting for him. He couldn’t gawk at his tutee or let her be the focal point of his daydreams, he barely even liked her.

Did he though?

It was the alcohol, Shikamaru thought, it was the alcohol that suddenly enlightened him to Temari’s beauty that he knew had always been there. He knew all too damn well that it wasn’t the alcohol.

Temari took the sweatshirt wordlessly, still staring at him. He wondered what she was thinking, though he didn’t say anything as he turned around to peel his sopped shirt from his skin. He could feel Temari’s eyes sear into his back and he fought the urge to meet her gaze, unsure of what he could say to her if he did.

Shikamaru slipped into the navy crewneck and relished the plush fabric against his cool skin. He pulled his hair out of its ponytail and shook the water from his locks. He then reached up towards the shelf over his desk and grabbed one of the mugs near the edge, blowing into it to disperse the dust that had gathered. 

“I’m gonna get some water,” he told Temari and left the room without waiting for an answer.

When he returned to the room, carefully cradling the porcelain mug as not to spill any water, Temari had put the sweatshirt on and took her hair out of the signature four ponytails she wore. It was a completely different look of hers he had never seen before; it felt natural and personal unlike her regular attire that always bordered business casual and closed off.

They shared a look as he approached the futon, handing the mug over to her. She grabbed it with both hands, taking a long sip from it until she returned it to him. He placed it at the edge of his desk before sitting down beside her. 

“You can use my phone charger,” Shikamaru told her, nodding to the cord that was plugged in the outlet at his desk. “And you can sleep in my bed…”

His voice faded before he could finish his sentence as Temari placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked from her hand to her face with knitted brows.

Time seemed to have slowed to the consistency of chilled honey, mismatching the rapid beating of his heart, as he watched Temari close the distance between them. What the fuck was she doing?

Shikamaru had his answer soon enough when she pressed her lips against his in a tender kiss. His mind went completely blank and short-circuited at the same time as she kissed him again, a little harder than before. He wasn’t thinking when he placed a hand to her cheek to deepen the connection between them. But, his rationality returned to him as soon as he tasted the alcohol on her tongue.

He pulled back quickly, ignoring the stickiness on his mouth from her lipstick and retracted his hand. His mind was off kilter and spinning out of control. What the fuck just happened, he thought wildly. What the _fuck_. 

“What?” Temari asked, attempting to lean back in to kiss him again. Shikamaru leaned back, averting her move.

“I can’t do this.”

“What?” She asked again, her voice sounding more hurt than confused. He opened his mouth to tell her why but she beat him to it with a sniffle and tears budding at the corner of her eyes.

“Is it because I’m ugly?” Temari whimpered, her voice wavering with the threat of tears. His jaw went slack as he tried to process everything all at once.

“Wha—”

“No, no, it can’t be,” Temari cut in shaking her head, trying to hold in a cry, “I’m not ugly, that’s not it. I thought you _liked_ me?”

The record scratched in his mind again, the same way it had when she revealed she was Rasa’s daughter though this reveal was much more surprising.

“ _What?_ ” He croaked.

Temari sniffled loudly and bit her bottom lip. “Don’t you like me?”

“Uh,” was all he could manage, dragging out the sound as he thought _please don’t cry please don’t cry please don’t cry._

She started crying when he didn’t give an actual response and it threw him into a new sort of panic. He was not at all used to this type of vulnerability, especially with someone like Temari. Where was all of this coming from? Did this mean that _she_ liked him? That couldn’t be possible. It _couldn’t_ be possible.

“Temari,” Shikamaru tried gently, hesitantly reaching out to touch her shoulder. “You’re drunk. I can’t do anything with you because that’s _wrong_.”

She looked up at him from her hands with teary-eyes and _fuck_ she was even pretty when she cried. He swallowed hard, breaking away from her stare.

“But you would?” Temari asked him in a small, shaky voice. “If I was sober?”

Would he?

He could barely hear her over the pounding of his heart, the sound drumming inside his ears and sloshing that feeling in his belly. That goddamned tequila feeling again. Was he going to throw up? 

“You do like me, don’t you?” She asked when he didn’t say anything. He was still wondering where all of it was coming from, but it seemed as if she was reading his mind again when she continued. “The diner? Our calls? Did they mean anything?”

Shikamaru took in a sharp breath. All of the coincidences that weren’t coincidences, of _course_. He didn’t think they meant anything, except maybe for bridging a friendship that was unforeseen. He _thought_ they didn’t mean anything to him. They didn’t mean anything to him, right?

“Shikamaru,” she said, his name sounding like poetry the way it left her mouth. “You like me, don’t you?”

His heart skipped again. Did he? Didn’t he?

“Hey,” he responded, catching her eye for a brief moment. “Let’s talk about this in the morning when you’re sober, okay?”

It was a lie. It was a goddamned lie. There would be no talking about it, he knew that, because if Shikamaru knew anything it was that talking about something meant acknowledging it and acknowledging it meant it was _real._ He knew that. There was no way Temari’s affections for him could be real, there just wasn’t any way. 

Maybe Temari knew he was lying by the way she looked at him, defeated. That felt like a knife twisting straight into his chest and he didn’t know why. (He damn well knew why.)

She wouldn’t remember in the morning, he rationalized. She was too drunk to remember and it would just end up as a funny thing to laugh about in retrospect. She was too drunk to know what she was doing, he thought; despite the windstorm conviction in her eyes that he could recognize, drunk or sober. Maybe they would never speak of it, just as he wished, and they could just pretend it wasn’t a real thing. 

“You can sleep in my bed,” Shikamaru said after an agonizing silence, pointing to the bottom bunk. There was no hesitation or response as Temari stood up from the futon, far too fast for her current state. He almost stood up to catch her but she caught herself against the wooden frame then crawled into his bed. She faced the wall (the same way he slept, he noted) with her back to him as she curled up and pulled the blankets over her shoulders. 

Shikamaru looked over at the empty space that she had just occupied, noticing that she had left her phone in the little indent of the futon. He grabbed it and plugged it into his charger before adjusting Temari’s heels to sit at the foot of his bed. 

He laid down onto the futon that was more metal frame than it was cushion, facing away from Temari as he tucked an arm under his head. He used his damp coat as a blanket, spreading it out to keep him warm but to also allow the canvas to dry. Eventually, he could hear the quiet snores come from his bed and he knew that she had fallen asleep.

Sleep had come for Temari, but not for Shikamaru. He had spent the rest of the night wide awake and replaying what had happened over and over again.

Why did she kiss him? There was no way Temari could have liked him, he just couldn’t fathom it. She was _Temari_ —bright, brash, beautiful; the daughter of a Kazekage with ambitious dreams and more than enough ambition to make them reality; so much more determined and motivated than he himself could ever hope to be.

And there was the fact that _she_ thought that he liked her. He was just trying to be a good person with the whole diner incident after she had listened to his lamenting. Their phone call had been unexpected but it was nice, even if they didn’t talk about anything academic as was the original purpose. He recalled the late night snapchats as he thought about the phone call at Kurenai’s and it suddenly hit him.

He realized how his intentions could have been misconstrued from friendly gestures to pining—the effortless banter between them, him picking up the tab, him taking her back to his room. He had never intended for any of those things to have seem like they had ulterior motives, but it obviously had been interpreted that way. It was just mistranslation, he thought. Temari didn’t actually like him, she was just reading into the fact that it seemed like _he_ liked her. She was just humoring him, that way she often did with his stupid jokes, even though he didn’t actually like her. He didn’t actually like her. Wasn’t that what he decided? Not to like her?

Shikamaru didn’t know what time it was when he heard Temari shift in his bed, groaning quietly. He squeezed his eyes shut and pretended as hard as he could to be asleep. He couldn’t talk to her about what he was thinking, there was no way. He wasn’t ready; he needed so much more time to think about everything. He was still hoping she would forget and they’d just never talk about it.

He listened as she climbed out of the bunk and grab the mug at the edge of the desk. He had to admit he was impressed she hadn’t thrown up at all over the course of the night. She had unplugged her phone from his charger, he heard, but he was unable to decipher the next sounds. It was almost as if she had crawled back into his bed though that was not the case as he heard her slid back into her shoes.

Her heels clicked faintly against the tiles of his room and she slipped out of his room almost noiselessly. There was silence for a few moments before he could just hear her say something along the lines of “pick me up.” She said some other things but they were inaudible to him and he wondered if she would come back into his room.

When what he perceived to have bene an eternity passed and she never returned, he threw his legs over the edge of the futon and looked at his bed. She had left his sweatshirt over his pillow and placed the mug on top of the microwave with the other dirty dishes Chouji had begun to gather. Shikamaru sat there for a few more minutes, looking at the clock to read that it was just a little past seven-thirty. 

The sleepless night was finally catching up to him when he could barely keep his eyes open, moving to crawl into his bed. He had hoped Temari made it home okay and that whoever she called didn’t have her waiting long. He hoped she wasn’t cold.

Shikamaru laid on his side and rolled his face to press it into his pillow. There was no intention to breathe in as deep as he did, but it happened before he had any better sense to argue against it and he was hit with the sudden smell of Temari’s perfume. Curiously, he grabbed the sweatshirt and he found that he could smell her on it too.

He rolled over onto his back and rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes harshly. 

Shikamaru’s entire bed smelled like Temari and it sent a feeling right through him. That tequila feeling again, the one that was always so nameless yet so persistent when it came to her. The name came to him suddenly like a godly revelation as he continued to breathe in Temari’s flowery scent; it came to him as he recollected all their time spent and laughter shared together; her gentle but firm words of reassurance; the way she made him smile when he thought he didn’t have it in him anymore; the kiss she pressed to his undeserving mouth and the tight feeling in his chest when she did.

“ _Fuck._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shikamaru, you big, bumbling idiot of course you like Temari. 
> 
> Are there really autumn/winter showers? I don’t know. 
> 
> Anyways, a lot of Temari’s behavior while she’s drunk is based off of my own experiences so hopefully it didn’t seem too out of character for her. Temari is obviously not a person who cries easily, but when writing that particular scene, I had in mind the time that she misinterpreted Shikamaru’s request to help him find a honeymoon destination for Naruto and Hinata as a proposal for marriage. Hopefully I emulated that well enough! 
> 
> Lastly, I know Shikamaru's thoughts about Temari seem jumbled and haven't been expanded on a lot, but that's what the next two chapters are for :) see you all in a week!


	9. different

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shikamaru is no stranger to self-doubt as he comes to terms with feelings he thought would never exist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all the views, kudos, comments, new subscriptions and bookmarks! this fic has gotten so much more attention than i could have ever imagined, so it goes without saying i'm elated that people are enjoying it! 
> 
> originally, this chapter was supposed to be two but i found it incredibly difficult to come up with enough ideas to populate two chapters. i'm honestly not very satisfied with it, having rewritten the chapter three times over, but this is what it is. i hope that you guys still enjoy it; as it was a tough one to write, i have no doubt it'll be a tough one to get through. 
> 
> also, c plus is coming very close to an end. after this chapter, there will only be two left! bittersweet, i know 
> 
> lastly, there'll be another note at the end explaining my intentions! 
> 
> anyways, enjoy-

It was Monday afternoon when Shikamaru found himself doing what he did best—ignoring every single feeling that bubbled within him. He had buried his nose into the textbook that Professor Hatake swore by, actually reading an assigned reading for the first time the entire semester. Chouji had made a loud, offhand comment about being surprised that he even had a textbook but Shikamaru paid it no mind. He had been trying not to think about anything for more than thirty seconds at a time, focusing solely on the bolded words and mind-numbing paragraphs his eyes scanned over.

He had been absolutely miserable since Sunday morning, knowing damn well why, but refused to acknowledge it regardless. He had spent the past nights breathing in Temari’s lingering scent, a smell that was stubbornly stuck in the fibers of his sheets. His sensible half that cared for his mental well-being had suggested he strip his bed of the sheets and throw them straight into a fire, but it was his stupid half that enjoyed the endless suffering that argued against it. He had rationalized that it would have been too troublesome to go through the workout of pulling the sheets off of his bed, which he conceded, was a very fair point. So, Shikamaru continued to inhale the mistake that left him aching.

Shikamaru shook his head, taking in a sharp breath. He couldn’t think about that. Thinking about things was second to talking about them and talking about them meant acknowledging them, and if Shikamaru knew anything, it was that acknowledging them meant that they were _real._

Of course, he knew what the reason was behind his rattled mind and racing heart caused by the smell of Temari’s perfume and he knew that it was, in fact, _very_ real. But, in the same way that his father threw random shit into the closet across from his room, what was out of sight, was out of mind. Shikamaru couldn’t acknowledge something like that, he was too much of a fucking coward too. Scared of rejection and all that other shit.

He didn’t want to acknowledge it because he didn’t want to get his hopes up. He still thought that it was some kind of cruel joke Temari was playing. He didn’t know _why_ she would do such a thing (also knowing that she wasn’t really the type to), especially when she was the one who kissed him, but he couldn’t shake the thought. He just couldn’t grasp the idea of someone like Temari liking _him_.

Shikamaru didn’t think he was a fundamentally bad person, but he also didn’t think he was a good one either. He had always considered himself as one of those people that fell in the middle of the continuum, that specific grey area that often went unnoticed by others. It was consistent with his childhood dream of living an average life; living unremarkably by his own right but also staying out of sight of the world. Having attention drawn to oneself meant they had done something to warrant such attention, regardless of whether it was good or bad. And that was something Shikamaru had always thought he never wanted.

But, he didn’t want to live an average life anymore for the sake of Mirai and keeping his promise to Asuma. That was what he decided. What he hadn’t decided was the sudden, suffocating need to be in Temari’s presence, to be the focal point of her attention. Which was, frankly, a _horrifying_ thought to Shikamaru. He had never had such a need before.

The realization occurred to him that Saturday night after she had kissed him, something so sweet and fulfilling. Something he had never experienced before with anyone else. Shikamaru certainly had had his fair share of sloppy, drunk kisses (when he too was just as sloppy drunk) though they always ended up in equally sloppy, drunk sex that would result in him being the butt of his friends’ jokes the next morning. There would be airy guarantees made with the girl at the moment to text each other after the appropriate amount of time passed since they had engaged in such scandalous acts, sometimes even a vow to start a Snapchat streak, but they were never fulfilled. Sometimes, it was on his end that he lost interest and never reached out again. But, more often than not, it was the girl who never made an effort to talk to him again. Which was fine, his hurt pride often thought. It was fine.

He knew that there would never been an _after_ for himself and whichever girl that had enough interest to fuck him at the moment. It never worked out, no matter how great he thought it was going. It was what it was.

But it was different with Temari, as he had come to known. He remembered deciding that he didn’t even want a _now_ with Temari the first time he properly met her, so there was never even room for a thought of an _after_ with her. He had decided he didn’t want to pursue her, because she was so brash and callous (and boldly ambitious and articulately outspoken and strikingly _beautiful_ ). He had thought it would only be trouble for him to go after someone like Temari, who had a tongue as scalding as the desert sun (and a fiery kiss to match).

Shikamaru had ignored the telltale signs of the tequila feeling in the pit of his belly, the habitual chewing of the inside of his mouth every time she had left him speechless, the stupid grin she brought to his face with every joke they shared. He ignored the deafening pounding of his heart when she had made the daring move to kiss him (a move he never even realized he had wanted to make, but Temari had always been more ballsy than he was and she beat him to it).

He remembered the others marks she left on him besides the kiss; the touch to his knuckle, the side of her head against his shoulder, her eyes boring into his back, the cadence of her voice ringing in his ears, _there’s potential for greatness in everyone, but in_ you _especially_ scrawled across his heart in her elegant script. 

And so suddenly, he wanted an _after_ with Temari. Even if there was barely a semblance of a _now_ between them.

There were the little surprises she revealed to him that only made him more interested, something he attributed to wanting to uncover the mystery of a transfer student. She was just a transfer with enough spunk to get under his skin and he had wanted to know what made her that way. He wanted to know what made her different. He always said it was for the sake of knowing _why_ she was like that, never anything more. He was curious and frustrated that he couldn’t read someone like her, that was why he had been so interested. Nobody was unreadable to Nara Shikamaru.

Except for her and his stupid self. 

He was so busy trying to read Temari he had gotten lost in her, swept up in the breeze of her intoxicating perfume and warm laughter. He lost track of his “true” objective trying to read the green in her eyes and the coy smiles she allowed him, instead becoming completely enamored by them. Captivated and spellbound. 

Of course, none of that fucking occurred to him when he was playing investigator because it was _for the sake of figuring her out_ or whatever bullshit he made up those few weeks ago. He read too little into his own reactions to her, the rapid fire heartbeats and blush that bled across his face. All the times he watched her stories multiple times, masquerading his interest in her as interest in the pictures she posted. He thought back to the moment in the diner when she had validated his grieving, realizing that that was the biggest sign of the feelings he had sworn not to develop. He had made sure to slam his head against the wall when the realization dawned on him, a little reminder of how fucking stupid he was.

He couldn’t acknowledge them though, those feelings. He just couldn’t. He was afraid of what it would mean, especially since he was so unsure of what Temari’s true intentions were. Sure, _she_ had been the one to kiss _him_ but people often did that when they were drunk; giving into whatever inebriated desires they suddenly had. And she hadn’t even said that _she_ liked _him_ , only asking if he really _did_ like her. The way it was phrased made it seem like he had been the one pursuing her the entire time and she was giving into _his_ temptations.

So, he rationalized that she _was_ giving into his want of her; a want he didn’t know had always been very constant but unnoticed by him.  

Shikamaru didn’t realize how deep in thought he was (something he had told himself _not_ to do earlier) until Chouji came to flick his ear. The pain was immediate and he didn’t need to look in the mirror to know that the skin was red.

He flinched and made a loud noise, hand going straight to his ear. “Dude, what the fuck?” 

Chouji scowled at him as he refocused into reality. “Your _goddamn_ alarm has been going off for the past five minutes. Were you daydreaming again? Or are you deaf?” 

And then Shikamaru was aware of the blaring noise and the vibrating of his phone at the edge of his desk. “A little bit of both,” he allowed lightheartedly as he reached for the phone to silence it.

What did he even have an alarm set for?

He glanced at it quickly just before turning it off but had to look over the words _again_ to make sure his eyes weren’t failing him.

 _Oh_ no. 

 _Tutoring appt @ 3:40 – Temari_  

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_ , he thought wildly as he slammed his phone facedown onto the desk. How could he have forgotten?

Oh, but of course. 

Shikamaru slapped a hand to his face and held his breath. It was his genius idea of not thinking about anything for more than thirty seconds that allowed for the important meeting to slip his mind. The intention was _not_ to think about Temari or anything related to her (which was _everything_ ) so that he wouldn’t ruminate on whatever disgusting feelings he had nestled in his belly. It obviously worked _wonders_ , he thought ruefully, since thinking about Temari and his gross feelings were the only things he had done for the past half an hour.  

He tried organizing the incoherent thoughts that flooded his mind, wondering what the best course of action would be. Should he go?

Why did she even schedule a tutoring appointment after their disaster of a Saturday night? His heart stopped. Did she remember everything? Panic rose in his throat as he thought about it. 

He remembered the compromise he made her, _let’s talk about this in the morning when you’re sober, okay?_ It was a deal broken before it was even forged. Maybe she remembered that. Maybe the tutoring session was her way of forcing a confession out of him. 

Was that what she wanted? For him to confess his feelings to her? And then what? Would she laugh? Tell him he was just a lovesick puppy that needed to get over himself and “ _of course_ you like me; how couldn’t you?”

The imaginary Temari was right. How couldn’t he?

He chewed his lip and glanced at the clock. Four minutes.

Maybe she didn’t remember. Maybe she _was_ too drunk to retain any memory of the events, only knowing he had sheltered her from the dangers of the night. Maybe she would laugh and ask how that ended up, and he’d nervously tell her nothing happened. He lent her a sweater. He gave her water. He offered her his bed and he slept on the futon. She was gone when he woke up. She would laugh that charming and warm laugh, and he would laugh too, knowing that his feelings would remain a secret. Nothing happened, he’d repeat. Except that he maybe, kind of, sort of stumbled head first into uncharted waters, and he couldn’t fight the tide that brought him down deeper and deeper. But he wouldn’t tell her that.

Because Temari didn’t like him. At least, not any more than as a friend.

Shikamaru squeezed his eyes shut and clutched the textbook he held with both hands. This is your job you stupid fucking idiot, he berated himself. He _had_ to go, he rationalized. It was what he signed up to do so it didn’t matter if he was afraid of facing Temari. He’d just go tutor her and leave. And maybe the conversation wouldn’t even come up. It was a gamble he was willing to take.

(He was trying to avoid her, yes, in fear of a conversation he knew would only cause him more inner turmoil. But, he had overlooked the nagging feeling of needing to see her and allowing his heart to swell at the sound of her voice. Ugh. Who even was he anymore?)

He snapped the book shut and threw his backpack over his shoulder before he could convince himself to crawl into bed and avoid the situation. There was nothing to worry about if he thought Temari didn’t like him. He’d just have to deal with his own feelings, because he didn’t have the guts to confess them to Temari. He didn’t even have the guts to confess them to _himself._ They’d just stay a secret. And maybe they’d pass, and he’d shake the desire for her affection.

Shikamaru stomped the entire way to the library, trying to ignore the thumping of his heart. There was nothing to be worried about, he chanted in his head. He could live with one-sided feelings. He had done so in the past, what difference did it make now?

(The difference was that Temari was not a one-night stand or some perky girl from Intro Psych. She was not someone that got bored with him and he didn’t get bored with her. She was not just someone whose legs he pictured himself between; instead picturing her humored smile when he said something mildly witty; long conversations with her about everything and nothing; learning all of her favorites for him to memorize. 

He wanted to know her, unlike the others, in the morning and at night and all the other times in between. He wanted to know what fueled her drive and made her so sure of herself; what inspired her to be so steadfast in rebuilding her home; what made her, _her._

She was not like the others. She was _different._ She had always been different. He knew that.)

By the time he walked through the double doors of the library, Shikamaru was hyperaware of how sweaty he was despite the bone-chilling cold he had just come from. There was nothing to be nervous about, he reminded himself weakly. Temari wouldn’t remember and he’d never have to tell her, or anyone for that matter, how he really felt. 

Realistically, he would probably throw up if he had to say it out loud. There were just so many feelings he hadn’t even realized had accumulated over the course of the past few weeks it was almost too much to handle. All the times his belly had that sloshing, tequila feeling and the smiles she coaxed out of him with mere snaps. He’d never felt this way about a girl before, and he thought maybe if he knew he had liked her earlier, it would’ve been easier to process and he wouldn’t feel so weak in the knees.

But, Shikamaru had gotten too good at suppressing his feelings that he seemed to have done it subconsciously; a fact that made him wish he could clone himself just so he could kick his own ass.

He saw her sitting at the high table where their first session had taken place, head over a textbook and twirling a pen. Did she know that they had a tutoring session? She’d have to, she was the one who scheduled it. Unless she had scheduled it before Saturday and had forgotten. His mind clouded with sudden doubt in his decision. He had been thinking he should have booked it while he had the chance. It was a mistake to even think he could face Temari, pretending as if nothing had happened.

Shikamaru was suddenly thinking of their kiss on his ancient futon, how perfect her mouth fit against his. He thought about the way they moved together, even for the brief seconds the kiss lasted, so much in sync that it was uncanny. 

_But you would? If I was sober?_

Yes, he thought right there between the library doors. A thousand times yes. It was an answer he wished he could have given her in that moment, but was too shocked to even connect the letters into words.

God, he couldn’t talk to her, let alone look at her, if that was all he was going to think about. Shikamaru had almost turned to leave until he saw that Temari spotted him as she looked up from her studying. His heart faltered, knowing even with the distance between them that there was something sharp about the look she gave him. 

Coming to the library was suddenly an awful mistake, second to his botched behavior on Saturday. She kept staring at him though, and he realized that she was waiting for him to come to the table. He swallowed hard and slowly made his way towards her, closing the space between them. Her look was even more piercing as he slid into the seat beside her, and he was very much so doubting his rigid belief that she had probably forgotten Saturday night.

Temari gave him no smile and barely acknowledged him as he sat there very, very, _very_ awkwardly. He didn’t know what to say, but what else was new? Her silence was not a good sign.

“Hey,” he greeted in a feeble voice.

She gave him a pointed look, something swimming in her eyes that he recognized as annoyance. There was no glint in them either, the kind he had seen before that he knew were welcoming his company. That did not bode well with him. “Hey,” she responded tersely. 

Temari went back to her reading and acted as if he wasn’t there. She was waiting for him to say something; he knew it right away. Everything about her behavior screamed that she remembered Saturday night and Shikamaru was feeling very panicked. She was waiting to hear what he had to say about him liking her, he knew.

He couldn’t tell her, though; he wasn’t ready to do so. He needed more time to process. But it was obvious he needed to say _something._ He couldn’t stand the silence that stretched between them, so unlike the comfortable ones he’d grown used to sharing with her.

“So,” he began, “what did you need help on?” 

Shikamaru winced as soon as he said it, immediately regretting the words. What a fucking idiot, he thought, that’s what you open with?

Temari had clearly been thinking the same thing as she slowly looked up at him with narrowed eyes that shouted _Really?_

He averted his gaze and felt the flush spread like wildfire from his face down to his neck. How had he managed to fuck up this bad? Temari sighed much too aggressively and flipped the page in her textbook. She was waiting but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t admit it for the fear of rejection he knew was bound to happen.

They sat there a while more in a pained silence. Shikamaru opened and closed his mouth every other minute like a gaping fish, trying to will some sort of sentence from his body but nothing came.

“I’m just gonna leave,” Temari finally said in a stiff voice, refusing to look at him. His heart stopped.

He couldn’t do anything as he watched her scowl the entire time she packed her things. He wasn’t stupid enough not to notice that she was obviously upset. But about what? There was no way, he kept thinking, there was no way she was upset about him not confessing his feelings. That would have meant that she had feelings for him and he just couldn’t believe it, sounding like a broken record in his own mind.  

She gave him one last look before she walked away from him, undeniable betrayal in her eyes, all while he did nothing to stop her. He closed his own eyes and bit his bottom lip. She remembered everything, he lamented. And he royally fucked it up.

Shikamaru sat there for a little longer, trying to make sense of the situation and what he was missing. Temari was definitely angry which didn’t seem to parallel his idea that she _didn’t_ like him. Why else would she had been so angry if not for the fact that she actually liked him? He had to be missing something.

“Where’s my sister?” A voice materializing out of nowhere asked and spooked him, causing him to jump. 

He slowly looked over and was met with the only person he could think of that managed to scare him every time.

“Dude,” Shikamaru said in an exasperated tone with a hand over his heart trying to steady its frantic beating and closed his eyes. “You’ve _got_ to stop doing that to me.”

Gaara looked as sympathetic as he could be but didn’t say anything to acknowledge the fright he stirred in Shikamaru’s weak heart as he repeated, “Where’s my sister? I thought she would still be here.”

Shikamaru’s shoulders fell from previously being hunched at his ears out of surprise to slumped in disappointment. “Oh yeah, uh,” he began, breaking away from Gaara’s intense stare. “She just left.”  

The statement hit Shikamaru in the gut like a brick as he voiced it into existence. _She just left_. Why did it sound more painful than it should have?

Oh right. It was because he watched as the one girl he’d probably ever really like walk away while he sat there, and did _nothing_ like the big idiot he was. Shikamaru swallowed hard. It was his own fault for not doing anything, there was no one else he could have blamed. If only he had more courage to pour out whatever was filling him to the brim, let all of the feelings wash over him instead of keeping them bottled up. He cursed himself and his inability to act on impulse. 

“You seem upset,” Gaara observed, his voice soft like cotton. Shikamaru grimaced.

“Is it that obvious?” 

“I can only tell because my sister makes the same face,” Gaara told him. Shikamaru felt his heart stop. What was that supposed to mean?

“Do you know why she did it?” Gaara asked without waiting for a response from him. Shikamaru furrowed his brow and wondered then what _that_ was supposed to mean. Did she tell her brother about how he ruined her Saturday night? Shikamaru felt embarrassed all of a sudden. It had to be about that. What else could he have been referring to?

“Did what?” He asked tensely. 

“The tutoring,” Gaara said. Shikamaru was taken aback. What did the tutoring have to do with anything? And why did he bring it up now of all times?

“I don’t think I follow,” Shikamaru admitted. If Gaara was annoyed by the fact that he wasn’t picking up what he was trying to put down, Shikamaru could not tell. He kept a great poker face. 

“She thought you were cute,” Gaara said smoothly. “She told me this at the party.”

Shikamaru gawked at him, unable to stop the blush that flared across his face. “What?”

“She then saw your name on the tutoring website, I’m assuming,” Gaara continued, paying no mind to his flustered response. “She was looking to be tutored in a different class but chose you instead because she must have seen it as an opportunity to get to know you better. ”

The room was suddenly spinning, Shikamaru noted, as he tried to process what Gaara was revealing to him. Temari thought he was _cute_? And wanted to get to know him better? How did she even know his name before they met and only knew him by face? 

The party.

It was Yamato’s party, as Gaara had said. That was when he heard her name the first time too, just before he threw up everything from his stomach. He could vaguely recall Naruto and Chouji shouting his name as he had wandered out of the apartment. She must have heard it then. 

“She mentioned you a couple times before I met you,” Gaara went on in an even tone, “I thought it was odd she was in better moods since midterms and that class was the only one she didn't complain about being too difficult, but it made sense when she introduced us. I didn’t realize you were the same guy from the party.”

“Are you trying to say…” Shikamaru’s voice trailed off before he could force the rest of the sentence out, unable to bring himself to do it. What he was so adamant in believing was suddenly coming unraveled right before his eyes, igniting dread and anxiety in his tight chest. 

“She likes you.” Gaara had said it as a matter of a fact, as if it was something that was so obvious. He could hear his pulse drumming in his ears as the words repeated themselves over and over in his head.    

“Temari’s not very good at talking about her feelings,” he could hear Gaara’s voice over the buzzing of his thoughts. “She is sometimes too proud to say what she’s feeling but I could tell.”

 _You like me, don’t you_? It made sense as to why she had asked him that so many times. She couldn’t say it herself, couldn’t say that she liked him. The same way he couldn’t say that he liked her. She was too much pride and he was too much cowardice. It was almost laughable. 

“But something happened that made her very upset,” Gaara inquired, furrowing his brow slightly. “Between Saturday and this morning. Something I’m assuming had to do with you.”

Shikamaru couldn’t hold back the gruff noise that could have been a laugh in a different light as he closed his eyes and nodded his head. “Guilty as charged.”

Gaara hummed. “Just as I suspected.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” Shikamaru asked weakly, feeling very tired as he opened his eyes to look at the redhead before him. The thinking and overwhelming thoughts were catching up to him.

Something in Gaara’s eyes darkened, like overcast rolling in over the calm sea. “Temari has never gotten this distraught about a boy, which only means that she really likes you. So, by disclosing these details to you, I was hoping you would right whatever wrong you did to my sister.”

Gaara’s voice had remained steady but it didn’t do much to mask the threat that underpinned his words. Shikamaru figured he deserved that much.

“You’re not gonna, uh, tell me to fuck off and stay away from your sister?” Shikamaru asked, giving a sideways glance to Gaara.

“You made my sister happy at one point,” Gaara responded, ignoring his question. “Like I told you, Temari doesn’t get upset about boys easily so that makes you special to her. I’m giving you the chance to make things right, now that you know what you know.”

He made her happy. How could he have done that? He wasn’t anything special, just a shitty guy who obviously couldn’t read social cues as well as he thought. He couldn’t deny that it made his heartbeat hum with approval though, knowing at a certain time that her smiles were a result of him. But, all of that was ruined.

“What makes you think I _want_ to make them right?” Shikamaru asked cautiously, wondering what sense Gaara made of the situation. Of course he wanted to make them right, especially after knowing that Temari had the same feelings for him. But how could Gaara be so sure of this little plan he was implementing? Gaara knew his sister liked him, but he didn’t know of Shikamaru’s feelings for his sister. For all he knew, Gaara could have been trying to force an apology out of him and let his sister move on in peace.

But, there was the shadow of a smile on Gaara's face, something kind and knowing and sympathetic. “I think you know why.”   

He walked away before Shikamaru could say anything; not that he even had anything to say, given the fact that he was dumbstruck. Were his feelings so boldly worn on his face that anybody could read them? How did Gaara know his feelings for her?

Shikamaru shook his head. He couldn’t think about that when there were bigger things to worry about. Like the fact that Temari _actually_ liked him? It was still too good to believe, but he couldn’t deny them when the confirmation came from her brother who definitely knew her better than he did. He hated being wrong, but for once, Shikamaru was grateful he was.

But, being grateful right then didn’t change the fact that he realized his reciprocated feelings one day, twenty-two hours and forty-five minutes too late. Not that he was counting, or anything.

He climbed out of his chair and thought about that chance Gaara was giving him. Obviously, Temari had been waiting for him to confess his feelings for her. He knew that for certain now, so his only course of action would have to be to get the fucking balls to say them to her. The thought still scared him. He’d never confess his feelings to a girl before, nonetheless someone like _Temari._

Shikamaru bit his lip as he exited the library with his hands shoved into his pockets. Temari was different, he reminded himself, which only meant that he’d have to adapt to that. Even if it scared him shitless. The zippo bounced against his chest as he descended the steps, and Shikamaru wished more than anything that Asuma would be meeting him at the bottom. He would have known what to say to get him off his ass to tell this girl he liked her.

But, like all of his other problems he made for himself, he’d be weathering it alone.

* * *

By Thursday, Shikamaru had been losing all sorts of hope that Temari was still waiting for him to confess to her.

He began staking out at the library figuring that Temari would be there to study. Chouji had thought it was both alarming and hilarious that Shikamaru had not only gone to the library more than three days in a row, but also to do _homework_. Of course, the real reason for Shikamaru’s frequent trips were unbeknownst to his best friend, so he endured the teasing that came from all his friends after Chouji told them about it. The relentless taunts were tolerable compared to the trepidation that grew like a weed in Shikamaru’s heart.

There had been no sign of Temari since their last tutoring session. She had scheduled no other ones and time was running out to do so given that classes were ending that Friday, marking the beginning of the brief period of excessive partying and frantic studying before finals week started. It would be the only opportunities he had left before the semester ended, unsure of whether or not he’d ever see her again after the next one began. She was a physics major, the population of which was housed in the one academic building Shikamaru never passed.

He was starting to think that Temari was deliberately avoiding him and he had missed his one window of opportunity to make things right, as Gaara had called it. He had worked on what he would say to her, hoping to run into her incidentally and let all of it out then. He figured that that would have been how she would wanted it to happen; something unexpected and unplanned and out of the blue. Somewhat romantic and cheesy like in the movies, a thought that made Shikamaru's skin crawl. When did he get so mushy? 

He didn’t see her on Tuesday or Wednesday though, and he was starting to doubt that his initial plan would be a good one. He made another decision, after a great deal of deliberation, that maybe he could try to coax her into a meeting. He had sent her a harmless Snapchat, hoping that it would just lead into conversation so that he could comfortably ask to meet up in order to tell her what was on his mind.  

But, Temari had left him on read and Shikamaru finally understood why being left on read was such a big deal, a concept Ino had been trying to teach him for quite some time. It was like a bee sting to the heart and touching a hot stove at the same time; the pain was instant and continued to linger.

So, he had found himself absently reading over a hastily written essay, looking up every other second to see if Temari had walked in. At one point, he had just stared at the double doors of the library with his chin propped up on his hand, waiting. She’d show up and he’d finally tell her that he _did_ like her. And then maybe he’d right the wrong he’d done and a path to an _after_ with her would open up and things would be fine.

Shikamaru sighed. He couldn’t be that hopeful just yet. He’d have to take it a step at a time, knowing that he couldn’t be one-sided about it; he had to remember that Temari would still have to accept his feelings before anything could move forward.

He started to think back to his interactions with Temari, berating himself for being so oblivious. As he recalled them, it became easier to recognize the flirting between them, done on both ends. She had added him on Snapchat first by his phone number, and had started their late night conversations. She had asked to go to the diner with him, and at the time, he remembered not knowing why but it finally made sense to him. He wondered if that moment they shared at the diner was as powerful for her as it was for him. He wondered if she thought about that as much as he did.

It was close to ten-thirty when his eyelids grew nearly as heavy as his heart. He tried not to feel defeated, knowing that if he wasn’t going to see Temari after his three days in the library, he wasn’t going to see her at all. There was still tomorrow, but he was starting to think maybe it was for the best that he wasn’t able to make it up to her.

Maybe it was a good thing for both of them it didn’t work out; a sign that it wasn't ever going to work out between them. He was starting to criticize himself for ever thinking he’d have a chance with someone like Temari. He didn’t deserve her and she definitely deserved someone so much better than him.

She had always been out of his league, the way she was so brilliantly studious and determined. Temari was beautiful in every way comprehendible and reminded him of the sunlight; so bright and warm and unwavering. She was so sure of who she was she deserved someone that was just as sure of themselves too. 

He wasn’t any of those things that Temari was. He was just an average boy who let his fears beat him incessantly until he was backed into the corner, with no strength to fight against them. Just a sad soul who still wasn’t sure of what to do or who he was or where to go. He was just a little shadow that couldn’t compare to her light.

She deserved someone who was like Naruto, someone with an unshakable resolve and a voice strong enough to change the course of history. Or someone like Neji, who was flawlessly handsome, elegant, and able to string together grand sentences with depth that matched the seas. Or someone like his best friend Chouji, who was effortlessly funny, and empathetic with a heart of gold. Or someone like Lee, who worked hard and played harder, and didn’t know the meaning of giving up. Or even someone like Sasuke, someone that, despite his shortcomings and tragedies, managed to move forward and better himself.

He was starting to think she shouldn’t settle for someone like him. If she even still liked him. Maybe she knew that she could do so much better too and that was why she was avoiding him.

Shikamaru left the library and made his way back to his room, the last sliver of hope in his heart holding out on the fact that he might run into her forcing him to keep an eye out as he descended the steps.

When there was no sign of Temari, he had made a point to go around his dorm building to the little concrete nook he claimed as his own. He slumped against the brick and smoked a cigarette, cursing himself for being so blind and ruining the first good thing to have walked into his life for the first time in a long time. Why did he always have to go out of his own way to wreck everything? Make them bad when they were going to be good?

Whatever potential for greatness Asuma had saw in him was beginning to turn back into a bitter lie since it seemed as if he tainted every great thing that came his way. If he couldn’t get it right with a girl he was head over heels for, what made him think he could possibly do right by Asuma and raise Mirai? 

Shikamaru crushed the cigarette against the wall and went back to his room. He entered with a sigh, spotting Chouji at his desk with a textbook opened, barely hearing his best friend greet him as he sank into his bed and kicked his shoes off. 

“Hey,” Chouji called from the desk warily, “are you all right?”

He folded his arms behind his head and closed his eyes, trying hard not to let his thoughts completely devastate him.

“I’m fine,” he lied. He had decided the sinking feeling in his chest would be the new one not to acknowledge in a lame attempt to stop it from becoming too real.  

“I just don’t want this semester to end.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i had intended for Shikamaru to be incredibly frustrating in this chapter because he has always struck me as the type to overthink in regular situations. obviously, he's smart and analytic and all those other good things that make Shikamaru, Shikamaru. but who says he isn't a thinker to a fault? hopefully i conveyed that well enough. 
> 
> also, i do apologize if things seem repetitive and incoherent. it was hard for me to formulate much of this chapter that was consistent with previous chapters but also different enough to set the mood for the next chapter. idk i just hope it flowed well and it doesn't seem horribly forced or rushed. like i mentioned, this was meant to be two chapters but i just couldn't think of enough things that weren't too similar to put into separate chapters. 
> 
> idk this chapter isn't entirely what i had hoped for it to be and i apologize if it was subpar. 
> 
> i'm hoping the next chapter will make up for it! 
> 
> until then x


	10. date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Best friends are there to point out what is often overlooked and provide unconditional support, Shikamaru thinks, as he runs after the one girl he can't let slip away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you everyone who's followed along so far! i appreciate every view, kudos, bookmark, subscription, and comment <3 
> 
> i've thought about this chapter since i started c plus and i'm so happy to have finally written it. it is very dialogue heavy but i tried to make it enjoyable. i figured that it would've been really redundant to have chunks of text that said the same thing that have been said in the previous chapter, so i decided to switch it up. 
> 
> i've always loved Shikamaru and Chouji's friendship, and the fic trope of Chouji being the ultimate wing/hype man has been my favorite. i hope you guys enjoy the conversation between them because i definitely enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> enjoy-

It was the last day of finals week, a Thursday just before winter break would begin and everyone would return home for the next month. It had also been ten days since he had last spoken to Temari, had been in her presence at all.

Shikamaru had seen her in passing over the course of the hectic finals schedule, just enough distance between them but not enough time to stop to pull her to the side to tell her how he really felt. He knew that she saw him every time they passed each other, outside of academic buildings and on the way back from exams. He could feel the piercing green of her eyes flick over to his direction, knowing that she had seen him but when he looked to catch her gaze, she’d be staring forward. Her face was hardened and cold, looking at everything but him.

It went without saying that Shikamaru was an absolute wreck, knowing that the damage was damn well irreversible at that point. As the semester came to a close and that much time had elapsed, he knew that the pain inflicted only grew exponentially. He kept thinking that there would be nothing strong enough to remedy the wounds he left her with, and that only left him wounded too.

He knew he had no right to even feel the way he did given that he was the one who hurt Temari, but knowing that he could have avoided all of it had he been a little more observant and less apprehensive about getting to know her was an undeniable pain. He couldn’t be the victim in the situation, he knew that. It was unfair to Temari, who had only been more invested in him than he was in her. But, it still hurt.

Of course, he had been pining after her the entire time, just unconsciously. Which was his own stupid mistake for never putting two and two together, so there was no one to be mad at but himself. It was his own fault he ignored every sign of his attraction to Temari and wanting to be with her. It was his own fault he was stubborn enough to think that she didn’t like him at all. 

In retrospect, all of the little things she did made so much more sense to him. All of the coy smiles and the way she crinkled her nose at his drawling remarks. The Notebook Incident finally made sense to him as he recalled the book filled with scribbled notes on the floor in the library. She had been doing fine in the class, he remembered Gaara telling him, but she had once again made the bold move to use it as a means to get to know him better. She was always so much more ballsy than he could have ever been. It could have ended up with them dating, he bemoaned, had he not been so fucking stupid to the signs.

Temari had done so much leading in the little dance he didn’t even know they were dancing, guiding him towards the final step that he managed to trip over and ruin. He was starting to question who the genius was between them. Everything she had done was so calculated and smoothly executed, but he just had _not_ to play into all of it. All he had to do was to follow; this impeccable girl and the beating of his heart when he saw her, but he couldn’t even do that. He remembered thinking he was saving himself from the trouble of pursuing her, knowing that it would only be painful in doing so. 

He knew then that there would have been no pain at all in actively pursuing Temari. It was a horribly miscalculated assumption he made. And because of his failure to recognize what was going on literally in front of his face, he feared he might have missed out on a lifetime opportunity. Temari was different, he had always known that, but he had come to the conclusion that a girl like her only came into his life once. He couldn’t think of anybody from his past that could compare.

What was done was done, though, he thought regretfully.

In order to avoid his chronic thinking again, Shikamaru had thrown himself into studying for his finals, something he had not done since his freshman year when he ended the term with a 4.0. He learned a semesters worth of information times four over the course of six days as all he did was flip through the pages and reread PowerPoint slides. He had put in extra effort into the presentation for one of his advanced political science classes, and garnered quite a lot of praise from the professor who Shikamaru was sure had hated him. He knew without a doubt that he aced all of his finals, feeling very pleased and accomplished with himself.

It was a good feeling to have taken each of the exams without having to rack his brain too hard in order to materialize answers from questions and pull bits of information from his memory. He had breezed through all of them and left considerably early (save Professor Hatake’s final), whereas in the past he had taken longer just because it took him more time to piece memories together. He would not have been averaging a C+ GPA that semester and he couldn’t deny that it felt good. Even though he had always had the power to change the trajectory of his grade point average at any time, it felt fulfilling to have gone beyond his own expectations. He was anticipating his final grades being released, knowing he would be pleased with them given that they would definitely be higher than a C. 

But, finishing his finals meant that he had nothing else to study for. Nothing else to keep his mind occupied after he returned his books to the bookstore and cleaned his hands of the academics of the semester.

So, Shikamaru had been thinking and attempting not to think as he stared blankly at the corkboard in front of him. There were pictures of him, Chouji, and Ino with Asuma behind them; pictures from his childhood when his mother had smothered him in kisses and his father laughed beside them; pictures of him and Asuma at his high school graduation.

There could have been pictures of him and Temari posted beside them, an intrusive thought butted in. Shikamaru frowned, knowing the truth in the statement, but had to remind the intrusive thought that there hadn’t even been a guarantee in her dating him had everything gone the way they were supposed to. There was potential, Shikamaru recognized, but not a guarantee. He was still adamant in the idea that she deserved someone within her own range.

“Dude,” he heard Chouji call from behind him. “Are you okay?”

Chouji had been asking him that almost obsessively since last Thursday. At first, it was a joking “wow, you’re studying? Are you okay?” that steadily turned into more and more concerned inquiries. Shikamaru couldn’t get annoyed, knowing that it was in Chouji’s caring nature to be that emotionally perceptive; but no matter how many times he insisted he was okay, his best friend kept asking.

Shikamaru sighed. “Yeah, I’m good.”

He could hear Chouji shift in his seat, prompting him to turn around to face him too. Chouji gave him a disbelieving look.

“You’ve been sighing hardcore the past hour and I’m really trying to study for this Integrated Human Physiology final.”

He winced at the course title and rested his chin on the back of his chair. “Sorry. That sounds like garbage. I’ll tone it down with the sighing.”

His best friend gave him a wary look, something Shikamaru knew he did out of habit before turning back around to continue whatever it was he was interrupted from.

This time though, Chouji said, “Something’s bothering you. Do you want to talk about it?”

Shikamaru winced again. “What makes you think something’s bothering me?” 

Chouji frowned at him. “Dude, you’re my best friend. I know you better than anyone. We’ve crossed streams so many times I could probably identify you by your dick.”

He couldn’t hold back his laugh, a sad smile breaking across his face. He felt guilty all of a sudden, realizing Chouji had been worrying the entire time. Shikamaru often thought he didn’t deserve a friend as good as Chouji, but he was glad to have him. They were always joking with each other, sometimes very harshly, but Shikamaru knew that it would be Chouji that’d follow him to hell without any hesitation. He knew that Chouji would do great things, no matter how much he mocked him.

“You’re looking at my dick, you gross fuck?” Shikamaru shot back lightheartedly, attempting to steer the conversation away from Chouji’s intended destination.

Chouji grinned as he rolled his eyes. His amused face was smothered over with concern again though as he asked, “Seriously, what’s bothering you?” 

Shikamaru opened his mouth to tell him it was nothing, knowing he should have told Chouji about his girl problem as he often did in the past but his best friend beat him before he could say anything at all.

“And if you say it’s nothing one more time I’m going to come over there and slap you.” 

Shikamaru frowned. He knew he should have told Chouji about Temari that night he had slunk back to his room a week ago, but he felt as if there was no point given the finality of the situation. He also did not appreciate when Chouji pulled an “I told you so!” at the most inappropriate times, something he knew would occur if he did tell Chouji.

But, he couldn’t lie if Chouji had seen right through it. He had begun thinking that perhaps talking about it would have made it a little easier to get over. There was the fear of acknowledging the end and making it real that sat in the back of his head, but Shikamaru knew it was not productive to sit there and stew in the thoughts either.

“It’s about a girl,” Shikamaru finally said.

Chouji hooted. “A girl? Who? How come you haven’t told me about her?”

Shikamaru looked off to the side and shook his head. “There’s not much to tell.”

“Who is it?” Chouji crowed, turning around completely to face him thus becoming fully invested. There was no going back.

“Temari,” Shikamaru mumbled. His best friend gasped dramatically and scooted his chair forward.

“What?”

Shikamaru bristled, not wanting to repeat himself. “You heard me.” 

“Temari?”

“Yes, dude,” Shikamaru insisted. Chouji’s mouth hung open slightly until it slowly broke into a grin.

“Tell. Me. Everything.”

Shikamaru grimaced. “You sound like Ino.”

Chouji waved his hand in front of his face. “Don’t change the subject. _Tell me._ ”

“You definitely sound like Ino now.”

“All right, I’m coming over there to slap you.”

They both stood at the same time and Shikamaru held his arms out defensively as he scowled at his best friend.

“I told you there’s not much to tell.” 

Chouji took a step forward, scrunching his face up as he gave him an incredulous look. “That’s fucking bullshit and you know it.” 

“Okay, _god_. Calm down,” Shikamaru gave in. He closed his eyes and pressed a finger to his temple, regretting the decision to tell Chouji in that moment. Talking about it definitely did not make him feel any better.

“Did you fuck her?” Chouji blurted when Shikamaru realized he hadn’t said anything. He opened his eyes and gawked at Chouji, who took it as a sure sign of admittance. 

“No!” Shikamaru exclaimed. “ _No_ , I didn’t. I—I couldn’t.”

“ _Couldn_ ’ _t?_ ” Chouji repeated with astonishment. “Couldn’t?! What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means exactly what it means,” Shikamaru said plainly. He didn’t like the feeling of being under the lab lights of Chouji’s prodding, but he should have expected it given the fact that he hadn’t told him anything about it at all. Once again, Shikamaru had no reason to be annoyed for a problem he made himself. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at that thought. 

“Whiskey dick?” Chouji guessed. “No condoms?”

“She was belligerently drunk.”

Chouji nodded considerately. “Okay, okay, I see. Totally understandable. So you’re upset that you didn’t get to have sex with her?”  

Shikamaru tensed. “It’s more than that.”

“So… more like… you’re mad about… blue balls?” His best friend tried, elongating each word with uncertainty. Shikamaru bit back a groan. 

“It’s not about sex, dude,” Shikamaru said through gritted teeth. He had been hoping Chouji would have come to the conclusion himself, but it was beginning to seem that that was not possible.

“So, you _don’t_ want to fuck her?”

“Oh my god. Of course I want to fuck her!” Shikamaru all but shouted, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “But it’s _more_ than that! I _like_ her.”

The words felt foreign leaving his mouth, hanging in the air like summertime humidity. It was the first time he had said it out loud, listening to himself admit it not only to himself but to another person as well. It was oddly cathartic. And what had only been real to him was finally real to the world by voicing it into existence. There was no taking it back.

Chouji’s mouth had been hanging open until he scoffed. “You literally told me almost a month ago that you didn’t like her because she was a pain in your ass or some shit. And now you’re trying to tell me you want to be the pain in _her_ ass?” 

Shikamaru couldn’t hold back the groan that time, shaking his head. “Why did you have to say it like that? I also just said it wasn’t only about sex.”

“Couldn’t help myself,” Chouji responded without missing a beat. “But, seriously. Are you fucking with me? I thought you didn’t like her?”

“I _do_ like her,” Shikamaru pressed, a little miffed that his best friend didn’t believe him. “I think I’ve always liked her.” 

“Really?”

“Yes,” he swallowed. “I was trying too hard _not_ to like her that the exact opposite happened. Temari’s probably one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. She’s smart, and not afraid to speak her mind and tell people how it is. She’s like the fucking sun and I’m just a helpless satellite getting caught in her gravitational field _._ ” 

Shikamaru winced as soon as he said it and Chouji made a noise of disgust.

“ _Ugh, dude_ ,” Chouji groaned. “That was the sappiest, grossest thing I’ve ever heard you say about a girl. _Ever_. I believe you, _god_.”

“I know,” Shikamaru agreed, squeezing his eyes shut. “But, I fucked up big time.”

“What d’you mean?” 

Shikamaru sighed and rubbed his jaw. “She liked me too and I guess she was under the impression that I liked her back, but I didn’t know that I did at the time. So, she kissed me and I freaked out because I didn’t even realize that she liked me and she kept asking if I did, but my dumb ass told her we’d talk about it later. Obviously, we never talked about it but by the time I figured out that I _did_ — _do_ like her, it was too late. I haven’t seen her in almost two weeks because I think she’s avoiding me, so it’s a lost cause.” 

A silence fell over them, prompting Shikamaru to open one eye. Chouji was staring at him with his eyebrows pulled together slightly.

“I recognize that this is a stressful situation for you,” Chouji said slowly. “But, can I just say I told you so?”

Shikamaru scowled. “This is not the fucking time for that, Chouji!”

“I know, I know, I know,” Chouji said apologetically, raising his hands in front of him. “I just had to.”

“I want to kill you.”

“Okay, but like what happened?” Chouji asked, ignoring the threat made against his life. “Have you tried talking to her since you figured out you like her?”

Shikamaru crossed his arms. “Of course I’ve tried.”

“Are you sure?” Chouji narrowed his eyes at him. Shikamaru frowned and leaned back against his desk.

“What are you implying?”

Chouji shrugged and made the “I-don’t-know” sound with his lips pressed together, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Chouji.”

“I’m just saying, dude. _My_ trying is definitely not the same as _your_ trying,” he fessed up. “You literally do not try at anything.”

He made a very fair point, Shikamaru conceded. His habit of slacking was his most notoriously known trait, having made the name “Laziest Piece of Shit” for himself back in middle school. If there was a way, Shikamaru had the will to put in the least amount of effort into anything he had to or was asked to do. It was just who he was.

“Okay, that’s true,” Shikamaru acknowledged. “But, I went to the library waiting for her to show up—”

“Oh, my god. That’s why you were there four days in a row?” 

“—and I even snapped her, but she left me on read. Which, by the way,” Shikamaru continued with a wounded voice, “I finally understand why it sucks to be left on read.” 

 “Ino’s gonna be proud you learned your lesson.” Chouji whistled. “But that’s it?”

“What?” 

“You’re giving up just like that?” Chouji asked as he turned his chair to face Shikamaru and took a seat. 

Shikamaru frowned. “Are you saying I didn’t try hard enough?”

“I’m absolutely, one hundred percent saying you didn’t try hard enough.”

“Wow,” Shikamaru deadpanned. “Thanks, best friend. I really appreciate the support.”

Chouji rolled his eyes at him and leaned forward, draping his arms over his knees. “Are you sure she’s avoiding you? I mean it _is_ finals week and the library is a fucking zoo around this time. Maybe she’s been studying somewhere else and that’s why you weren’t able to see her?”

Shikamaru raised his eyebrows and dropped his arms so they clenched the side of the desk. He hadn’t thought of that, though as Chouji mentioned it, it seemed like a great possibility. He was aware of how seriously Temari took her studies given the notes he had seen occupy her notebook and her lofty goal she hoped to achieve one day. Being a physics major also meant that she had to study much more relentlessly than the other disciplines. As he thought about it more, he could recall the natural science building being hailed as a study sanctuary by some. 

It had been the latest building to be remodeled, leading to new furnishings and a better lounge than any of the other academic buildings had. Shikamaru himself could not say how nice the building had become since he hadn’t seen the inside of it except for time-lapse photos he’d stumbled upon on Facebook. He hadn’t stepped foot in the building either, not since freshman year when Ino had forced him to take Intro Bio to fulfill one of their gen eds. 

“I mean, I guess that could be it,” Shikamaru said after a moment of contemplation. He thought of Gaara’s words; the chance he was granting him and the warning that was woven into the words. And the fact that Gaara had said he was special to Temari. There was something about the statement that had clouded his mind and he wondered what sort of depth it had. He had wondered if it was true and not some brotherly intuition.

“Her brother also told me some shit along the lines of her not getting upset about boys often, so that makes me special or something,” he disclosed to Chouji.

“ _Duuuuuude_!” Chouji bellowed, leaning forward. “And you think she’s avoiding you? If she apparently doesn’t get upset about boys, that definitely means she’s been waiting for you to make a move!”

Shikamaru grimaced, a little skeptical of the statement. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes, I’m sure,” Chouji said with steadfast certainty. “Ino has forced me to watch enough romance movies over the course of my life I can recite _The Princess Bride_ in my sleep. This is like a classic rom-com move.”

A grin cracked across Shikamaru’s face as he listened to Chouji speak though it slowly dissipated as the voice of doubt whispered in the back of his mind. Temari didn’t seem like the type of girl who waited for things to happen. She was a go-getter by all means. It didn’t seem plausible that she would be waiting for someone like him, regardless of whether or not she thought he was special.

“I don’t know, Chou…” he said indecisively.

Chouji clicked his tongue. “Okay, look at it this way,” he began with his palms up. “You said she kissed you, so from what I’ve gathered so far, she knew she liked you first. Her kissing you is kind of like her confession and since you basically rejected that, she’s probably thinking it’s a lost cause too. _Or_ she’s still waiting for you to make a move, because according to her brother, she doesn’t get worked up about boys and you’re special so she thinks you’ll pull through. Therefore, you have to shoot your fucking shot, my guy, before it really is too late.”

The revelation fell onto Shikamaru like god’s choir and he suddenly felt the need to slap himself upside the head. He had never thought to look at the situation from that perspective, but it sounded logical. It sounded like it could be real. For somebody so smart, he had been very close-minded about the entire situation. Or maybe just blind. Probably both, he concluded.

“Okay, so how do you propose I shoot my shot?” Shikamaru asked with a newfound hope stirring in the pit of his belly. He rescinded his regret in telling Chouji of his feelings for Temari; had they remained a secret, Shikamaru would have never made the connections Chouji had made so effortlessly in front of him. It was a reminder he could always count on his best friend through anything.

“Obviously you have to go find her,” Chouji responded immediately.

He took in a breath and glanced at the clock. It was close to three in the afternoon and he tried recalling the final exam times for the semester. The eight AMs that met Monday, Wednesday, Friday were slated to take their finals at two. “She should be taking Professor Hatake’s final right now.” 

Chouji snapped his fingers. “Go right now and hope to fucking god she hasn’t finished that final and you tell her exactly how you feel. Except, none of that gross shit you told me earlier because that was _really_ cringey.”

Shikamaru folded his arms across his chest again and tensed his shoulders. “Just tell her? I don’t know, man, I have to think about that.” 

“Shikamaru!” Chouji yelled, shattering the 24-hour mandatory quiet hours rule. “Oh my god! Don’t think, just _do_! I know you well enough to know for a fact that overthinking is what got you into this shitshow in the first place.” 

He was right. Chouji was absolutely right. Shikamaru was an incurable overthinker; an attribute of himself he knew existed but often overlooked (mostly because he was too busy overthinking to even notice). It was what buried him in self-loathing with Asuma and he was beginning to realize it was what led things with Temari horribly astray. 

“You’re right,” Shikamaru blurted, shaking his head. “God, you’re right.” 

He pushed himself off of the desk and hurriedly slipped into his shoes as he threw on his coat. He couldn’t waste any time thinking about the pros and cons of the situation. He wouldn’t let the chance slip him again. Temari was worth so much more than that. 

“Good luck, dude,” Chouji beamed, giving him a thumbs up. Shikamaru smiled sheepishly and reached for the door. 

“Thanks for talking me through it, Chouji.” 

He shrugged. “That’s what best friends are for. Also, if this works out, you owe me _big_ time.”

“I’ll buy you dinner and we can call it even?” 

“Done deal.” Chouji grinned. “Ino’s gonna be _pissed_ you haven’t told her anything.”   

He rolled his eyes, halfway out the door. “She’s the last blonde I’m worried about right now.” 

Shikamaru was out of breath by the time he reached the academic building he hoped Temari was still in. Professor Hatake was infamously known for his poorly worded exams, resulting in students bent over desks trying to decipher questions that could have otherwise been answered in a moment (and, there was sometimes crying involved too). It had taken himself an hour and a half to take the entire final; he figured Temari would have had trouble finishing quickly as well. 

He burst through the doors of the building to find that every door he could see was closed with strenuous and studious silence permeating through the halls. Room 203 was just to his left, the regular classroom the course had been in all semester and where he had taken his own final a day prior. Through the narrow pane of glass, he saw that the desks were still occupied. He couldn’t make out Temari among the heads unless he stood directly in front of the window, an action he avoided doing so that he didn’t seem like a complete creep. 

He resolved to standing near the main doors again to wait for her, not wanting to completely catch her off guard. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears and he tried to settle his pounding heart with a deep breath. _Don’t think, just do._ If he started thinking again, he’d be consumed with doubt and convince himself to leave. And he didn’t want that, not at all. He couldn’t let Temari walk away from him without at least giving his best shot at fixing things first. There was a feeling within him that told him he wouldn’t have been able to live with it if he walked away right then.

Shikamaru didn’t know how fast time was progressing as he listened to doors open gently and soft footsteps fell against the carpet. He had held his breath for each person that exited the room, none of them being Temari.

He began to panic, thinking that maybe she had already finished the exam and left. Maybe she had been long gone and his efforts were in vain. Maybe she was done waiting. 

A door opened again and his ears strained to hear the footfalls that approached. His heart stopped (the same way it had when he saw her walk through the library doors the weeks before) just as the steps paused.

She gave him a quick look, holding his eyes for a brief second before continuing ahead. He took a step forward to meet her halfway but she didn’t slow down.

“How was the test?” He called out, his back to her. He heard her stop, the old floorboards creaking beneath her. 

“It was fine,” she responded coolly. He could hear her shift weight, intending to leave. 

“I realize it might be too late to apologize,” Shikamaru said as he turned around. Her back was still to him. He sighed, taking a step forward. It was all or nothing.

“But I still wanted to say I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting these past few weeks. It was really shitty of me and there’s no excuse good enough but you are so amazing and so different than anyone I’ve ever met that it really freaked me out. And that’s on me for being an idiot, not on anything you did. I didn’t know how to process my feelings or _what_ I was even feeling, but… I know now. I know what they are and I also know I have no right to ask for a second chance but,” he paused to take a deep breath in order to steady the quiver in his voice, “I was wondering if you wanted to go grab something to eat? Like a—a date?”

There was a long silence that stretched between them, bouncing off the walls and striking a fear into his heart. It was too late; he had missed his opportunity to right the wrong. He had overthought for too long and the window had closed. What was done was done for certain now, he thought achingly.

But, Temari turned her head to barely look at him over her shoulder, eyes cast towards the ground. Her voice was just shy of a whisper. “You want to eat a date?"

He almost choked on his own breath. “Oh my god— _no_! I want to take _you_ out on a _date_!” 

Shikamaru couldn’t help the stupid grin that stretched across his face though, knowing what the question meant coming from Temari’s lips. It wasn’t too late. He wasn’t too late. She turned to face him completely, a relieved and amused look drawn on her face.

“I’m picking somewhere expensive,” Temari said as she took another step towards him, shrinking the distance between them.

“I don’t care where you pick as long as you’re picking me.” 

She laughed and he felt lightheaded in the same way that tequila made him feel. _No_ , not tequila. It was Temari, he realized, it was always Temari that was the tequila feeling in his head and in the pit of his belly. Since that first night he saw her, it had always been her.

“That’s a bold statement,” she said, looking up at him slightly. He could smell the perfume on her hair. “How about that place down the street?”

Shikamaru bent down and tilted his head, not so subtly looking from her eyes to her mouth. “I take it back; I suddenly care where you pick.”

She grinned at him and her nose brushed against his. He moved to close what little distance was left between their mouths but she took hold of his hand, stopping him.

“Too late,” she teased, squeezing his fingers. “I already made up my mind.”

Shikamaru daringly took that as a response to his previous statement, allowing himself to be led down the stairs and out the door into the cold. His face was beginning to ache from the seemingly permanent smile that settled in his cheeks, an ache he decided was well worth enduring.  

“So you think I’m amazing, huh?” She asked him and he allowed the blush to flood his face. 

“Something like that, yeah,” he tried saying coolly but his voice had cracked, eliciting a laugh from Temari. She squeezed his hand again and he realized how natural it all felt. 

He was not one to believe in otherworldly forces given how rational he was, but he was beginning to think it was meant to be. Or, perhaps it just meant he would have to treat Chouji to an extravagant dinner as thanks for giving him the swift kick in the ass he needed. Regardless of what it was, Shikamaru was grateful.

He made a note of visiting the cemetery sometime soon, feeling a need to tell Asuma everything that had happened and to tell him of Temari.

For the first time, Shikamaru looked forward to going to the cemetery.

And for the first time in a long time, he felt as if things were finally moving forward.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i realize how anti-climatic this resolution was and that there was only a snippet of Temari in this chapter, BUT the next (and final!) chapter will be worth it (i hope). i modeled their interaction off of what had happened in the episode after Shikamaru and Temari had spent the entire day looking for a honeymoon destination. so idk it seemed a lot better in my head lol if it seemed super abrupt and forced (and not enough of Shika confessing his feelings) i imagined that much of that happened over this date.
> 
> idk :/ hopefully it was still enjoyable overall! 
> 
> please leave a comment if you're able; i love hearing what you guys think! <3 
> 
> i'll see you all next week x


	11. tutor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shikamaru recalls memories of his friends' relationships as he marvels the one he is just beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhh im so sorry it's taken me forever to update! i was swamped last week with a huge research paper that was due over the weekend and i've been on spring break so it was difficult for me to find time to sit down and write this! 
> 
> but here it is! the final chapter of c plus!!! i hope you guys enjoy this ending. i've always thought that Shikamaru and Temari's relationship was very lowkey in comparison to the others and i wanted to reflect that throughout the entirety of the story. 
> 
> i hope you guys like that i expanded on the other characters' relationships; i felt it was necessary since i tagged them lol hopefully its not too out of character! 
> 
> anyways, sorry again for the wait! 
> 
> enjoy-

“So, Naruto’s girlfriend is Hinata?”

“Huh?” 

Shikamaru looked up from the book resting on Temari’s legs that were draped over his lap, the topic of which she had said was coma-inducing-ly boring. When he glanced over at her, he couldn’t help the smile that stretched across his face. He wouldn’t deny that everything had felt surreal the past couple of weeks, almost dream-like as the semester finally came to a close and a whole new thing was opened. It was the most cliché thing he could think, but it was the only way he could aptly describe it.

Temari looked at him through her lashes and repeated herself. “Naruto’s girlfriend is Hinata?” 

“Yeah. Why are you—wait,” Shikamaru began as his eyes dropped from her face to the phone between her hands. “Is that my phone?”

“It might be,” she responded without missing a beat as she tried to suppress a grin. Temari turned the phone to reveal an old photo of Naruto had posted of himself and Hinata some years ago, the age of it evident only by the length of Hinata’s hair. “They’ve been together forever.”

“Something like that, yeah,” Shikamaru said, dog-earing the page he had been reading from. She had scooted closer to him as she continued scrolling through Naruto’s old photos.

“Tell me about them.”

So he did, recalling the times back in middle school when he had watched Hinata try to muster the courage to speak to his energetic blond friend only to psych herself out at the last minute. She had been trying to get his attention for years, since elementary he remembered, though she was unaware of the fact that Naruto had been interested her for quite some time as well. Naruto had confided in Shikamaru that he noticed she was the only one who had consistently showed up to his soccer games, even though they had only spoken a handful of times prior.

“Every game?” Temari asked, incredulously. He nodded.

“Every game,” Shikamaru confirmed. “Her cousin Neji and one of her childhood friends both played too. They called her the Soccer Sweetheart for a while since she organized a lot of the fundraisers for them. She didn’t start going or doing that stuff regularly until Naruto joined the team, though.”  

There had never a right time for them to get together however; something always came up resulting in the wrong place and wrong time. She was too busy with school; he was too busy trying to catch up with school. He was off with Jiraiya for a year; she was neck deep in advanced courses. She was stuck with an overbearing father with great expectations while he was just trying to _find_ his own parents. There was always something. 

It wasn’t until just before their junior year of high school had begun that everything fell into place for Naruto and Hinata. Ino had said, who originally heard from Sakura, that it was something like a chance meeting at Ichiraku that they were finally able to get to know one another. Naruto had later confirmed the date-that-wasn’t-a-date to Shikamaru, telling him about how he had never been so nervous to talk to a girl before. He hadn’t realized how amazing she was; Naruto had told him.

“That’s cute,” Temari commented, resting her cheek against his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “They’ll be together for five years this fall.”

Ino had heard from Sakura who had heard from Sasuke that Naruto planned to propose on their fifth anniversary, having already bought a ring and everything. Hinata had expressed to the girls that she didn’t feel the need for a ring, but Naruto had always been one for big and flashy gestures. Their entire relationship had been equal parts intimate and sentimental growing together, as well as grand gifts. 

It was well-known that Hinata was fucking rich, given her heritage as a Hyuuga. Her status as heiress was taken so seriously that people sometimes referred to her as _princess_ , a pet name Naruto used as well. Hinata was modest with her wealth but it was clear she had the means to get whatever she wanted _when_ she wanted it. There was no reason for Naruto to spoil her, but he did it anyways.

Naruto had come into a great deal of money on his eighteenth birthday that had been gifted to him by his parents before their deaths. His godfather Jiraiya had revealed the documents to him and it was a tearful event of recognition and fulfillment Naruto had been searching for his entire life. Much of that money had been put towards rebuilding orphanages, much like the ones he had lived in during his early childhood, and then it was put towards showering Hinata with lavish gifts.  

“He sent her flowers every month while she was abroad?” Temari asked as Shikamaru listed the things Naruto had done for Hinata in the past.

“Every month on their anniversary until she came home,” he told her. It was their freshman year of undergrad that Hinata spent abroad. She would return to her hotel room to a different arrangement of flowers each month with a love felt note handwritten by her adoring boyfriend. Shikamaru could remember seeing the pictures she had posted to her story and the complaining from Ino about not being able to find a love as pure as theirs. 

“That’s actually really cute,” Temari said as she scrolled past a picture Naruto had posted of himself and Sakura. “Is that his ex?”

Shikamaru chuckled and adjusted his head against hers so that he could get a better look (which in reality was just a move made to get closer to Temari).

“No, that’s Sakura. They’re just really close. She’s dating Sasuke.” 

“Oh, the one that you don’t like?” She looked up at him slightly and the corner of his mouth was tugged into a half smile.

“You remembered that I said that in the middle of my depressing monologue?”

Temari sat up and adjusted her legs over his lap, resting her head against her fist that was propped up by the back of her couch. She looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “You sound so surprised.”

“Just a little bit,” Shikamaru said, shrugging. “It was kind of an insignificant detail.”

“Maybe so,” Temari conceded, “but I don’t think there was anything insignificant about your ‘depressing monologue.’ Now, tell me about this Sasuke guy.”

He moved so that he was mirroring her pose, her legs still over his lap and sending waves of heat through the fabric of their clothes. “You seem very invested in my friends right now.”

It was her turn to shrug, looking off to the side before directing her eyes back to his. The apartment she shared with her two brothers was quiet around them save the hum of the heater in the corner, though even then Temari had complained it was a little too chilly for her as a Sunagakure native. Shikamaru knew that it was a small lie she used in order to cozy up to him, but he couldn’t have cared less if the lie meant that they were touching.

He had found over the course of the past weeks that they were always touching when their bodies were at rest. It was either fingers loosely intertwined or bare legs over his lap or shoulders pressed against each other. When they were sleeping, it was limbs tangled together or her forehead pressed to his back, sometimes it was his head at the crook of her neck. He remembered thinking that it all felt natural back in the hallway outside of Professor Hatake’s classroom, but he had no idea what sort of depth that statement had held until then. It felt as if they had done it hundreds of times before.

“I’m just trying to get a good idea of what these people are like before I meet them,” she told him nonchalantly.

Shikamaru made a noise of acknowledgement, nodding slightly. “Okay, that’s fair. They’re kind of a handful.”

He had yet to introduce Temari to his friends, having only mentioned her very briefly over text. Ino had begun getting suspicious at his growing number of disappearances since break started, but Shikamaru trusted that Chouji would have filled her in by that point. Gossip between Ino-Shika-Chou, as they were lovingly dubbed by Asuma, spread like wildfire; whether it was Chouji and Shikamaru informing each other of Ino’s antics or Ino complaining to them of the most recent relationship drama she overheard, a secret shared to one of them became a secret shared to three. It was not limited to other peoples’ drama however, extending to their own secrets being shared amongst each other.

“He doesn’t seem too bad,” Temari commented as she turned his phone to show him a picture from Sakura’s Instagram of herself and Sasuke. It was from the middle of the semester at a bar, Shikamaru remembered, having hastily stepped aside from the counter in order to avoid Ino’s nagging for ruining the photo. The moment captured a rare smile from Sasuke with his arm slung around Sakura’s neck as she leaned up to kiss his cheek.

“It’s not that he’s _bad_ ,” Shikamaru said hesitantly. “It’s more like he’s a little emotionally constipated.”

Temari’s laugh was unbridled, a different sort of laugh he learned she also had some time ago when he had made an offhand comment. It was not as soft as the laugh he knew her by, but still rich and full of heart; it was sincere and unrestraint, which only made him happier to hear. 

“What?” 

Shikamaru gave her an amused look and placed a hand on her calf. “It’s what Naruto calls it. He’s been a fierce advocate in the ‘Sasuke has feelings’ movement. It’s a sort of a running joke.”

Of course, Sasuke’s stunted emotional capacity was much more serious than the jokes their friend group made it out to be. He had an incredibly traumatic childhood that left him with more scar than heart, forcing him to be closed off and hateful to those around him. His only surviving family member had been his older brother but he had been convicted of the crimes against the Uchiha and spent a majority of Sasuke’s adolescence in custody. Sasuke only knew hate and vengeance from then on.

It wasn’t until he had met Sakura and Naruto that things slowly became better. He was able to experience good relationships again despite the fact that he and Naruto had always been at odds with each other. They were always competing, whether it was in academics or sports though it was futile on Naruto’s end given that Sasuke was a natural at everything he did. Naruto had more heart than Sasuke however, and in addition to Sakura’s patience, they were ultimately what saved him from a life marked by loneliness and darkness.

Sakura had been crushing on Sasuke since middle school, much like Hinata had been on Naruto. They technically had been dating as long as Naruto and Hinata but had broken up and gotten back together so many times, the most recent and longest stretch they’d been together was considered their actual relationship.

“Probably during the second semester of freshman year, I think was when they got back together for good,” Shikamaru recalled. 

It had been a messy couple of years for Sakura, but her devotion to Sasuke was unwavering. Because he was so closed off, it was difficult for him to commit and express his feelings (hence the emotional constipation, as Naruto aptly named it). Nobody truly believed that he loved Sakura except for herself, but after a while, her patience had run thin and the breaking point came. 

“So, she was gonna break up with him for real?” Temari asked. 

“She was,” Shikamaru confirmed. “But not without trying something first. Sakura’s always been one not to go down without a fight.”

Sakura had proposed an ultimatum: seek psychiatric help or it would be the actual end of them. By then, everybody including Sakura had doubts that he would have pulled through. They were all convinced that he was beyond saving and destined to a life of brooding, especially after his brother’s retrial and proven innocence that was followed by his sudden death. There was no light left in Sasuke, or so they had all thought.

It had been about a month since Sakura had made her demands and she had begun preparations to delete all of the pictures she amassed over the years of herself and Sasuke with the help of Ino, when he showed up to her house. He had arrived with a bouquet of her favorite flowers, a sheet of paper, and an apology that was as heartfelt as it could have been coming from him. 

“What was the sheet of paper?” Temari asked curiously, resting her head against her folded arm on the back of the couch.

“A prescription for antidepressants,” Shikamaru said. “Signed by his psychiatrist. They’ve been together break-free since then. Just about three years now.” 

“Good for her for holding out that long and him for getting help,” Temari drawled. “So you don’t like him because he’s depressed?”

“Well when you say it like that, it makes me sound like an asshole,” Shikamaru said sheepishly as he reached for the nape of his neck. “I’m not a big fan because he’s made a lot of questionable decisions in the past and I think Naruto and Sakura have been too lenient with him but that’s not really my business. All that really matters is that he’s gotten better.” 

Shikamaru shrugged as he said it, watching as Temari continued scrolling through his phone. She made a noise as she turned to the phone back to him, revealing a throwback photo of Ino and Sakura from their senior prom.

“That’s Ino, right?”

He had mentioned Ino and Chouji a few times over the past weeks, giving names and faces to the people who he had told Temari were his best friends. She had recalled Chouji from Yamato’s party (“the one who ate the stale chips?”) and found it amusing that it was his best friend that convinced him to make his move with her both at the party and during finals week. Temari had admired Ino’s long, flowing hair from the pictures he had showed her. She had noted that Ino reminded her of Rapunzel and Shikamaru couldn’t hold back his laughter at the irony of the comment, knowing that Ino would have loved and hated hearing that. 

“Yeah, she and Sakura are practically attached at the hip.”

“Who’s this with her?” Temari asked. It was a photo of Ino and Sai displaying paintings they had done at one of the many paint nights Sai often dragged her to. The theme of that night had been a field of flowers, something Shikamaru knew Ino could replicate in her sleep given the time she spent with plants. Though, despite the fact that Ino’s painting appeared flawless, she was not as well-versed in the arts as Sai was.

“They met through one of these painting classes?” Temari asked. He shook his head.

“No, they met in the painting _room_.” 

Ino was a diligent student, much more so than Shikamaru had ever been. She garnered much praise from Asuma during high school for making the honor roll all four years in addition to making the varsity track team their sophomore year. She was dedicated to her work and it showed.

But, with the rigorous nursing courses she ran into at the start of undergrad, Ino had begun allocating more time and effort to them as opposed to her gen eds. She did well in the general education classes, but it was only after extensive nights of cramming before big tests and projects that she gained grades acceptable to her own standards.

Ino was steadfast in believing that the tactic would work for every gen ed she ran into, especially the Introductory Painting course required for their Fine Arts credit. He could remember her lack of worry with the class, having said it was “just fucking painting, how hard could it be?”

It turned out to be much harder than Ino anticipated. Early in the second semester of their sophomore year, she had claimed it would have been easy given that much of the work was done during lecture and the studio time they were granted was used by Ino to study for her nursing exams. He recalled the offhand comment Chouji had made about all of the time she skipped painting for other work would bite her in the ass but Ino had remained unfazed. It wasn’t until the end of the semester neared that she realized they were required to hand in a portfolio; one she had not started at all.

“She’s completely fucked in the ass by this painting portfolio,” Shikamaru began, “so she thinks that if she pulled an all-nighter, it’ll be enough to finish it.”

Which, in fact, had thankfully turned out to be true for Ino’s sake. She had spent nine straight hours in the painting room, from eight to five in the morning, working relentlessly on the painting prompts that had been given to the class weeks prior. She had sent him and Chouji a steady stream of angry and raccoon-eyed snaps during the duration of her stay, some with paint smudged over the front facing camera.

For the first four hours of her torturous stay in the room of hell, as Ino called it, she had spent them alone with her speaker and fuming complaints. It wasn’t until close to midnight that somebody else had entered. Shikamaru could remember the exact night only because of the five snaps she had sent him consecutively in the span of two minutes forcing him to promise to sprint across campus if she called, fearing that she might have been skinned alive by the mystery figure.

“But it was Sai,” Temari said. He nodded.

“Yeah, it was Sai. Ino was still super freaked out though,” he said. “I think her exact words were ‘Who in the ever loving _fuck_ shows up to the painting room at midnight.’”

Temari scoffed. “She was literally there at midnight too, though.”

“Anything that a man is doing past ten p.m. is suspicious behavior to Ino.”

“Smart girl.”

Ino had only seen the mystery guy a handful of times before, though that was being generous given that she wasn’t entirely sure she knew him (and the sleep deprivation had begun to set in). He didn’t say anything to her and worked silently, much to the satisfaction of Ino who had continued to work incessantly on her paintings. He had stayed for a total of three hours and left, as wordlessly as he had entered, leaving whatever he was working on at its easel. Ino had thought it was incredibly weird that he had left it there, and as she finished her last assignment, her nosy bone goaded her into seeing what he had painted.

“It was something weird,” Temari guessed.

“ _Sort_ of.” 

It had been an intricate portrait of Ino’s profile, painted while she had been slaving away at her own work. Done in completely black and white, it had captured Ino’s beauty during a period of pure, uninhibited lack of self-care. Scrawled in the corner was the title given by the artist (“ _Beautiful_ ”) and his name (Sai). 

“That’s kind of weird,” Temari said with a grimace. “She didn’t think that was weird?”

“Well, it’s complicated. Or I guess, Sai’s complicated.”

Ino was not an obnoxiously vain person; she had always been confident in her own abilities, attractiveness, and worth as a person. She bathed in compliments on her flawless hair and took every piece of praise in stride. There wasn’t ever any hesitation in her belief that people liked her. But, she was not without her periods of self-consciousness; one of which had been the nine-hour stretch in the painting room. 

He remembered Ino telling him that she was finally able to recognize Sai as the cute guy that sat behind her and Sakura during their Statistical Foundations course. The course was participation heavy but he had remained silent throughout the entirety of it, which had been the primary reason why she was unable to recall him right away. It hadn’t been until a tireless amount of Facebook stalking that she realized who he was. She was already smitten with the portrait he had done, but even more so after assuming that he had thought she was attractive too.

“So, she wasn’t completely turned off by some rando she barely knew from Stats painting a portrait of her and not even talking to her?” Temari asked skeptically.

“Ino said it would’ve been creepy if he wasn’t cute,” Shikamaru recalled, rubbing his chin. “Sai has a weird way of showing his feelings, which seems to be a recurring theme in our friend group now that I’m thinking about it.”

Temari laughed, sending little tremors from her body to his. “He’s emotionally constipated like Sasuke?”

Shikamaru chuckled as he looked off to the side. “It’s more like he just doesn’t really know how to process feelings. But, he makes Ino happy and that’s all I care about.” 

“You sound like a dad.” 

He shrugged. “Ino knows how to take care of herself, but I’ve grown up with her long enough that anything bad that happens to her becomes my problem, even if she’s fucking annoying sometimes. She’s had some bad run-ins with guys in the past, so I’m glad it’s been smooth sailing with Sai so far.” 

Temari smiled softly at him. “That’s great of you to feel that way. But, you think it’s gonna get bad with Sai?”

“No, not really. Chouji doesn’t think so either, and I trust his judgement.”

“And this is Chouji’s girlfriend?” Temari asked, referring to the picture of Chouji and Karui from the time they had gone bowling. It was an older picture that Shikamaru had taken for them, just at the beginning of their relationship. It was getting close to a year old, he figured.

“Yeah, that’s Karui. She’s part time at the community college half an hour away. You probably won’t see her often.”

“She seems nice,” Temari commented as she continued scrolling through the pictures. “How’d Chouji meet her if she doesn’t go here?”

Shikamaru let out a graceless noise that had a semblance to a laugh. “It’s Chouji’s favorite story. They met at a goddamn grocery story.”

“Why’s that funny?”

“They tried grabbing the same last box of cereal.”  

It was close to two in the morning when Shikamaru had gotten a frantic call from his best friend while they were on winter break. It had awoken him from his slumber and he thought Chouji was in immediate danger, prompting him to be half out of bed and pulling his pants on with his phone between his ear and shoulder. He almost hung up when Chouji had said it was about his favorite cereal brand that no one but him liked, only staying on the line when Chouji had blurted something about a girl.

“What’s the flavor?” Temari asked.

“Honestly I don’t even know,” Shikamaru confessed. “But I almost threw up the first time I tried it, so I was surprised another human being liked it too.”

His best friend had likened the meeting to love at first sight, describing the situation as having happened in complete slow motion. There was nothing but him, the girl, and the box of cereal that connected them. It had been the only time Chouji had let go off a box of cereal—because he was completely head over heels for the girl and also because of the murderous anger in her eyes he suspected would have been inflicted upon him had he not let go. 

“So, he let go of the box and they were suddenly in love? Sounds like she was mad that he even tried grabbing it.” Temari commented.

“Yeah, that’s what I said too.”

But, Chouji had continued running into her at all sorts of places afterwards—the coffee shop around the corner of the grocery store, the donut shop across town, at the gym (when he had decided to go). What started as _love at first sight_ turned into _meant to be_ for Chouji once he had concluded the multiple times he’d run into her weren’t coincidences anymore. He had stated the next time he would run into her would be the time he would ask her out.

“And guess where he saw her next?” 

“The grocery store?” Temari guessed.

“Yup,” Shikamaru said. “Cereal aisle, again. Same situation as the first one.”

Shikamaru had called bullshit on the story when Chouji had told him, but his best friend insisted. He would later find out that Karui had thought the same thing Chouji had thought of her, a thought along the lines of _meant for each other_. She had admired his kindness, having watched from afar the times he had picked up the bill for an elderly woman behind him and helping a man carry groceries to his car. She hadn’t been sure he would have remembered her from the first time they interacted, which was what held her back from asking him out all the other times.

“And Chouji loves a girl who can hold her own at dinner,” Shikamaru said with a grin.

Chouji’s affection had gone beyond Karui’s appetite, however, and extended to the fact that she was interested in him past his physical appearance. His best friend had always been teased for his heavy-set body, something that he himself had found no fault with, but the mocking comments were still detrimental to his self-confidence especially as a child. Shikamara had always thought that the size of a person’s heart mattered more than the size of their belly, but unfortunately, not everybody shared that same philosophy.

He and Chouji had been friends for what seemed like forever, acting as support beams for each other; Shikamaru had raised the foundation for Chouji’s self-confidence, and Chouji had often shed the light needed to disperse the shadows doubt created in his head. So, Shikamaru had been elated when he and Karui were able to have a decent talk where she had told him of how much she adored Chouji. She didn’t mind that he was what others would have considered overweight; what had truly mattered was that he was generous and cared greatly about those around him. Shikamaru had told her that that was a quality of Chouji’s he admired as well. 

“That’s sweet,” Temari said with genuine sincerity. “He sounds like an amazing friend.” 

“He is,” Shikamaru affirmed, nodding. “He’s the best kind of friend I could ever ask for. You’ll like him a lot.”

Temari smiled. “From what I’ve heard so far, I already do." 

He returned the smile. He wasn’t able to say for sure if he was nervous about having his friends meet Temari. They were certainly, as he had mentioned, a handful (which in truth was a generous understatement to their dysfunctionality as a group). He knew they would have welcomed Temari, teasing and jokes about a woman finally being interested in him included, and he knew that she would have enjoyed their shenanigans. Perhaps it wasn’t even the introduction he was nervous about, but the fact that it served as a reminder that all of this was real. He was still getting used to it after all.

“Wait, who are they?” Temari asked suddenly, handing his phone over to him. It was a photoset of Neji and Tenten from a few days ago, the first photo included captured the exact moment the former had gotten down onto one knee behind the latter. The second caught the moment Tenten had turned; the third showed her surprised face and Neji’s nervous smile; the fourth was the hug after she had said yes; and the fifth was an extreme close up of Lee’s tear-streaked face. Neji simply captioned the set _she is my destiny_ , a statement that had made Ino, Sakura, and Naruto all cry.

“Ah shit,” Shikamaru said as his thumb swiped through the photos. “I keep forgetting that it’s official now. That’s Neji and Tenten. Neji is Hinata’s cousin.”

“She’s so cute,” Temari beamed at a photo of Tenten. “I love her space buns.”

“Yeah, they’re kind of her thing. She’s been trying to get Neji to do them too for the longest time.”

Neji and Tenten had not been dating as long as Naruto and Hinata, but they went back a great deal longer than the two high school sweethearts of their friend group. Everybody had figured they would have started dating at some point, or were already in a relationship but were too private to have confirmed anything. 

It was sometime during their sophomore year that it was confirmed they _were_ already in a relationship; a fact that was revealed by one Rock Lee, who had prodded his two best friends to no end. Lee had always been the one to suggest that they were dating, and spent much of his time trying to get them to admit it. 

Neji had always been very quiet and reserved about details of his life that weren’t already revealed to the public; as a Hyuuga, regardless of being from the branch family, he was well-known throughout the community for his remarkable talents in academics and sports. In the same way Sasuke had been the prodigy of the Uchiha, Neji had been the prodigy of the Hyuuga. He excelled in school, having graduated valedictorian the year before Shikamaru had; and was captain of the varsity soccer team three years in a row. Neji was well-spoken and confident in himself, unlike Hinata. He once held dreams of taking over the Hyuuga family company despite the fact that he would have never been able too given his status as a branch member.

“So, Hinata is the heiress to their family’s company but Neji is more qualified to take over?”

“Well, Hinata’s grown up a lot so she’s able to be CEO now, but that’s what it was like in the past,” Shikamaru clarified. “Their family has a lot of high expectations.”

Neji held a lot of bitterness over that fact for quite some time, but it slowly ebbed as life moved on. He always thought that Hinata had been destined to being a meek pushover who would never be able to take on the mantle of Hyuuga CEO, and that Naruto would never have what it took to become Hokage. Neji dealt in absolutes, determinism, and fate written in permanent ink on the paper of life. Anything that was already decided could not be changed.

But, he had been proven wrong once Hinata began growing out of her shell thanks to Naruto. After Naruto and Hinata began dating, Neji and Naruto had their fair share of talks regarding existence and destiny and all that other bullshit Neji thought his life had been dictated by. 

“So, it wasn’t just Gaara and Sasuke who had their hearts changed by Naruto,” Temari remarked playfully as she leaned her head against the palm of her hand. 

Shikamaru laughed, “No. Honestly, I think he’s changed all of us.” 

Neji had slowly let go of his firm grasp on the finality of predetermined fate, and it had been around that time he and Tenten finally announced that they were dating. Even though it had been Lee who tried getting them to admit it, everybody else already had a feeling they had been dating given the amount of time they spent together. When they made it Facebook official, every single one of their friends had commented a simple _finally._

There had been talk of a proposal for quite some time, mostly coming from Lee who had a mouth just as big as Naruto’s when it came to keeping secrets. By the grace of God, however, the proposal had remained hidden from Tenten, who really had no idea that it was coming. She was surprised, especially by the fact that it happened in a public place and without any warning. Neji had always been one to meticulously calculate his plans before any sort of big action, but the spontaneity of the proposal proved to be a testament of his love to Tenten and his growth as a person.

“They plan on getting married in the summer after graduation,” Shikamaru disclosed.

Ino had pried the details from Tenten, who was only beginning to register that her boyfriend had become her fiancé and had barely even thought of wedding plans. It was needless to say that it was incredibly exciting news for the friend group. Naruto had requested an open bar and a promise from everyone to still be his friend, forewarning that he would let the party animal within him completely loose at the reception (much to the horror of Neji and Tenten).

“That’ll be exciting,” Temari said. “They don’t think that’s a little too early to get married though?”

Shikamaru shrugged, having not thought of that before. “It was probably Lee who bullied them into getting married this young.”

Temari laughed. “And Lee’s the one in the last photo?”

He nodded. “Yeah, but that’s only his face. He’s a sight to behold. Here, let me show you.”

Shikamaru went to Lee’s Instagram, though he furrowed his brow as he scrolled through the photos. There was something off about the page but he couldn’t tell what it was. He could have sworn Lee had many more pictures before. 

“Oh _shit_ ,” Temari breathed beside him. Shikamaru looked over at her as she pressed herself against him to get a better look. “That’s Lee?”

“Yeah, his bowl cut and block eyebrows are comical but he’s a really great guy.”

“No, no, no. It’s not that,” Temari interjected, almost excitedly as she patted herself down for her own phone. “I knew I’d seen him somewhere. _Look_.”

The picture she showed him was from Snapchat, having been posted last night, of a grinning and red-faced Lee. In front of him was a large, intricately garnished bowl of ice cream with two spoons. Shikamaru had opened his mouth to ask who had posted the photo, but he had his answer soon enough as his eyes moved to the top left corner.

“ _Gaara_?” He croaked. “I’m pretty sure Lee had a girlfriend, though?” 

But, the sudden shortage of photos on his page and absence of a girl that was not Tenten made sense as Shikamaru thought about it. “When did they break up?” He muttered more to himself than anything.

“I have no idea, since I don’t even know Lee,” Temari said. “But, Gaara mentioned meeting some guy a few nights ago. Who would’ve thought it was him!” 

“Yeah, no kidding,” Shikamaru exhaled as he ran his fingers through his hair. He would have to ask Ino about what she knew regarding Lee’s breakup. “Do you know how they met?”

Temari shook her head. “No, he only just mentioned him. Should I be worried about him breaking my little brother’s heart? ‘Cause I’ll kick his ass if he does.”

He grimaced as he shook his head. “I believe it. But, no, Lee is the softest dude you will ever meet. If anything, I think you’ll love him when you meet him.”   

Shikamaru could not name a more genuine or brightly optimistic person than Lee. They were not close by any means, only having become friends through their mutual friends, but that did not diminish how grateful he was for Lee’s presence. The guy was eccentric and energetic, always beaming and sported green like it was the new black. But, Lee was the personification of dedication to hard work and unyielding loyalty.

Lee had the ability to raise the spirits of anybody he came into contact with, always speaking of the greatest that could come if they continued to persevere through their hardships. Shikamaru was sure that Lee didn’t have a mean bone in him, given that he was always so respectful and kind to those around him. Shikamaru could only imagine what it would have been to be the object of Lee’s affection and the sort of dedication he would give to such a person.

“Okay,” Temari said, relieved. “I’m putting my faith in your judgement.”

“The accountability in that is great and I don’t want it, but for you, I will accept.”

Temari threw her head back as she laughed, shaking her head as she slowly settled. “That’s the sweetest thing you’ve said to me these past three weeks.”  

“Wow,” Shikamaru feigned offense as he raised a hand to place over his heart. “ _That’s_ the sweetest? Not any of that other shit I said at that expensive ass restaurant I took you to?”

Temari laughed again as she reached over to press a hand to his cheek. “Nope.”

He turned his face into her hand as he rolled his eyes and tried to suppress the smirk that threatened to surface. 

That exact moment marked three weeks since he had walked hand-in-hand with Temari to the restaurant just down the block from campus. It had been three weeks since Shikamaru elaborated on everything he was feeling to the best of his capabilities. Temari had listened patiently, smiling coyly every so often; it went on until he began repeating himself. It wasn’t until then that everything on Temari’s end had been laid out on the table, in equal parts teasing and sincerity, as he was used to.

(“You kept me waiting long enough.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m surprised you were still waiting.”

“Honestly, I was about to give up on you but you sounded like you were going to cry when you caught me.” 

“I _was_ gonna cry.” 

“You’re such a crybaby.”

“And you’re a girl I think is worth crying about.”

“You’ve cried about me?” 

“I said I was _gonna_.”

There was a pause.

“I wasn’t actually going to give up on you. I felt like I couldn’t—like I had to wait just a little bit longer for you to come around.” 

“And I’m so fucking glad you did, even if I was an asshole and kept you waiting.” 

“Are you now?”

“Yes, because there are not enough times or accurate enough words to tell you how stunningly incredible I think you are and the fact that I’m even being given a chance to get to know you better makes me happier than anything else in the world right now.”

There was another pause.

“You talk to all the girls like that?” 

“Only you. It’s only you I’ve felt this way about.”

“I think that makes two of us.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Well, I’m not gonna lie, what got me was how attractive you are—” 

“ _That_ makes two of us.”

“—But, when we started talking about things that weren’t Professor Hatake’s shitty class, I realized you’re so much smarter than I thought and so caring of those around you. I realized how much I liked talking with you and finding out about you as a person. And you make me laugh. I think you’re a great person, so much greater than you think you are.”

“Your laugh is what got me.”

She laughed and his heart swelled. “Didn’t you just say it was how attractive I am that got you?”

“I’m trying to be a little romantic here.” 

There was the laugh again.

“I think the romantics are just beginning.”)

She had been right; they had only begun. Shikamaru hadn’t dated anybody in quite some time, so it was difficult for him to adjust. Three weeks seemed like a small amount of time, but he had learned a great deal about Temari and the way to navigate their budding relationship in that time.

He learned how she took her coffee (hazelnut creamer over ice) and her favorite color (which was, indeed, purple); he learned that her back was dotted with freckles (“lots of sunbathing,” she admitted sheepishly) and that she had a faded scar on the inside of her left thigh (“sharp point nicked me when I climbed our fence one summer”). She loved horror movies, but only if all of the lights were on and somebody was close by. Despite she was often annoyed with them, he learned that Temari was fiercely protective of her two brothers and loved them more than anything.

Gaara had given him a knowing look the first time he had come over to the apartment, a soft smile as he looked from him to his sister. There had been approval and relief in his eyes as Shikamaru gave him a simple nod. His meeting with the other brother had not been what he was expecting.

(“This is the guy? Damn, he’s a baby.”

“Oh my _god_ , Kankuro, _shut_ the fuck up.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Nice to meet you. Word to the wise; try not to make my sister mad ‘cause she gets really fucking scary when she’s pissed.”

“ _Kankuro_.”

“Shit, there it is.”)

The middle child of the three was interesting, to say the least. He was undeniably Temari’s brother given his callous nature and irritability at having guests over. But, as Shikamaru had spent more time in the apartment, he learned that Kankuro was friendly and prone to testing the boundaries of joking with his sister. He also had a slight obsession with assembling model figures and repainting them so that they were more accurate, often resulting in purple paint smudges all over his face that he would be too lazy to wipe off. 

Shikamaru had wondered if things were moving too fast between himself and Temari, given that he had spent the past two weeks of winter break at her apartment. He had gone home for a week to see his parents, the atmosphere of which was still murky since their last dinner talk. His conversations with his mother were strained, especially over the phone, but he was able to remedy that by handing her a print out. It was a simple screen shot of the webpage that allowed him to declare his major ( _Political Science_ ) but the weight of importance it held was staggering. She had pulled him into a suffocating hug and rubbed the nape of his neck, like she often did when he was a child, reminding him that she would be proud of him no matter what he did. 

(Later that same week, he would find the sheet of paper stuck to the fridge like it was a childish work of art he had done but the small gesture warmed his heart.)  

During that week, he was finally able to give his father the answer he was looking for whenever he asked about the special lady in his life. His father, of course, did not believe him; the elder Nara had thought it was a joke. After some embarrassing convincing on Shikamaru’s end, his father eventually accepted the fact and then moved onto asking incredibly personal details about the girl. His mother had walked into his father’s study just in time to see Shikamaru nearly bludgeon his father with the empty beer bottle he had been drinking from. After that, his father moved onto more serious talks about the future after undergraduate (such talks Shikamaru would have once met with apprehension; but that time, he welcomed them).

He was better abled at talking about Kurenai and Mirai whenever they came up in conversation. Both of his parents still slid into the topic delicately, but had been surprised that he was willing to talk about them more openly.

Temari had asked often about Mirai as well, more casually than his parents did. She inquired about the baby’s growth and even offered to buy her clothes (“I actually love baby shopping,” she’d admit). Talking about Mirai became easier, and the conversations slowly turned into talks about Asuma, and then about him. 

They had spent many late nights passing a bottle of wine between them, splashing some red on white sheets and laughing between sloppy kisses. He told her about Six Shot Tequila Night, after she had reminded him he owed her that story. They shared their fears (hers being unable to restore her home to the greatness it once held) and he had told her of the stories Asuma created for him about the shogi pieces they played with habitually.

And so he had begun to wonder again if things were moving a little too quickly, disclosing his worry to Temari just last night. He couldn’t remember if it was normal to be so comfortable with each other so quickly, and being able to talk about things so freely (despite the fact that that was what he had envisioned much of their relationship to have been, it was still slightly concerning—he didn’t want to mess this up).

But, Temari had just laughed and pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth as she raked her fingers through his hair. “I’m beginning to suspect that you overthink a lot.”

“I do,” he admitted reluctantly and just a bit on the defense. “I’m not saying it’s bad. I just—I don’t know—”

“Want to know what I think?” Temari had softly interjected, sitting cross-legged beside him.

“What?”

“You might think it’s a bit sudden, but it’s not like we just met each other. We have the whole second half of the semester behind us. And I actually consider that time at the diner as our first date.”

He had smiled, allowing the words to quell the worry he held. “Our first date, huh?”

“Yeah,” Temari grinned at him. “You paid for it after all.”

“I told you that you technically paid for it since it was the money from tutoring.”

“Oh whatever,” she teasingly rolled her eyes. “Point is; I think things are moving the way they should be. It feels natural.”

And with those three words, any worry he previously had from his chronic overthinking had been crushed. It echoed the thought he had, that anything and everything with Temari felt natural, and he shifted his thoughts to wondering if that was the type of confirmation he needed from her. Nothing else mattered if Temari had thought it was natural as well.

Shikamaru laughed suddenly as he refocused from his thoughts to the present, feeling Temari’s hand against his face. She raised an eyebrow at him.

“What’s funny?” She asked.

He raised his own hand to place it over hers, giving it a slight squeeze. “Nothing. I was just thinking that all of my friends have been dating forever and then there’s us at three weeks. But, if Gaara and Lee start dating, we won’t be the ones with the shortest relationship anymore.”    

Of course, the length of the relationships was not as important as he had made it out to be but it was something he found amusing. He would finally know of the girlfriend woes his friends often complained about, though above all, he would finally get to share happiness with someone else.

“Hey,” Temari said gently, scooting closer to him. “We’ll get up there too.” 

“You think so?” 

“I know so.” There was the steadfast conviction in her voice that he admired so much.  

Shikamaru smiled at her before closing the distance between them. Their kisses had always been soft yet fervent, often sending warmth straight through his body. It reminded him of being in the sun, a thought that was not surprising given that Temari hailed from the desert and every touch she placed on him was always heated. There was a certain warmth to Temari, both figurative and literal, that he had not known with anyone else before.

And it would have been a great disservice not to mention that the sex was as amazing as he thought it would be (but that was, of course, secondary to Temari’s presence in his life as a whole).

She broke off their kiss and looked up at him with that glint in her eyes that he knew would be followed by a joke.

“What?” He asked, settling his hands against her shoulder blades.

“Just thinking that if I had to grade the way you kissed, it’d be a C+.”

Shikamaru mockingly frowned as he titled his head to the side. “C+? Am I really that average?”

“Hmm—just a little bit,” she said lightheartedly. “But, it’s okay, I can tutor you.”

He laughed, thinking back to the conversation he had with his father. “Is that what we’re calling it? Tutoring? Sounds like something from a shitty porno.”

Temari rolled her eyes. “Just kiss me, you smart ass.”

And so he did.

* * *

 **yama_ino**  
>delivered  
(opened by everyone)  
NARA SHIKAMARU WHAT IS THIS  
MAKING A RELATIONSHIP FBO WITHOUT EVEN TELLING ME YOU WERE TALKING TO A GIRL???  
I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS  
BEST FRIENDS

 **akimichibuddafly**  
uh oh  
u didn’t tell ino?

 **yama_ino**  
what do you mean “u didn’t tell ino”  
YOU DIDN’T TELL ME SHIT EITHER CHOUJI 

 **akimichibuddafly  
** I thought Shikamaru was gonna tell u!!!

 **yama_ino**  
so that means you KNEW and didn’t even bother telling me??  
what is loyalty and friendship to you boys  
I’ve never felt so betrayed in my entire life  
SHIKAMARU ANSWER ME OR SO HELP ME GOD I’M COMING TO YOUR HOUSE RIGHT NOW TO GET ANSWERS

 **Me**  
Who said I was at my house?  
:)


	12. epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the end is merely the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i thought it would be appropriate to have an epilogue as well, given that Asuma is an important focal point for Shikamaru. I won't say much else :) 
> 
> enjoy-

“I, uh, met this girl… her name’s Temari. We’re kind of dating— _no_. We _are_ dating; she’s my girlfriend. I’m still getting used to calling her that because she’s really amazing and I don’t think I deserve her even though she says I do. She’s sarcastic and brilliant and not really afraid to say anything. I think you’d like her a lot. She’s from Sunagakure; Rasa’s daughter, actually. She kind of has the same feelings about the Kage position as you did, so I know you guys would have a lot to talk about if you got to meet her.”

The sound of the lighter being flipped open was nostalgic as he lifted it to his mouth to light one cigarette then the next.  

“She’s blonde – _surprise_ – and I think you’d be proud of Chouji. He was the one who set us up, sort of. It’s kind of a long story but she and Ino get along too, which is great because you know how protective Ino gets.”

The laugh was bittersweet as it left his mouth.

“Oh, and I brought this—” he reached into his coat pocket to pull out a folded piece of paper, the crinkling of it sounding supernaturally loud as he smoothed it out.

“I know you can’t see this but I thought I’d show you anyways. All A’s, just like freshman year.”

He took a drag and exhaled the smoke from his lungs, stuffing the paper back into his pocket. 

“And my dad helped set me up with an internship at the Hokage’s office. I got the call back yesterday. I’m thinking if the internship goes well, they’ll give me a job when I graduate.” 

His laugh was half joking. There was a pause, the end of which was marked by a sniffle. 

“I know you already know, but,” his voice trembled as he spoke. “But, Mirai’s birthday was last week. She’s gotten really big and already knows her colors. She’s gonna do well in school; Kurenai and I both think so.” 

He took in a shaky breath.

“We miss you a lot. _I_ miss you a lot. But you were right; I’m starting to figure out what to do.”

He flicked the ash from the end of his cigarette with one hand and rubbed his eyes with the other. 

“I think I know for sure that I can do it now; I think I can keep my promise.”

He held the zippo out in front of him and smiled, allowing the tears to gently roll down his face. 

“It’s been hard, but things are better now. They’ve finally gotten better, Asuma.”

* * *

_end_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's it! 
> 
> very special thanks to everyone who commented, i appreciated all of your kind words! thank you to everyone who gave this fic a read, left a kudos, bookmarked, and subscribed! i was very overwhelmed by the amount of attention it got but i'm so glad that you all enjoyed it! i felt it was necessary to completely close the story with Shikamaru going to the one thing that caused him a lot of anxiety and finally acknowledging that he's moving on idk 
> 
> i had a lot of fun writing this and i hope that the ending isn't too bad. once again, i am so grateful for the support and encouraging words you've all left me! 
> 
> i will definitely be writing more ShikaTema AUs in the future (bc there aren't enough and I love them so much)! 
> 
> please leave a comment if you're able; i love hearing what you guys think! 
> 
> once again, thank you to all who've given this a read and followed me on this journey <3 
> 
> until the next story! x


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